Trying to Understand
by CelestoArius
Summary: Tres Iqus doesn't understand human emotions. He doesn't understand why humans laugh or cry. He has no emotions, and according to the dictionary, this means he is dead. As he tries to understand the complexities of human emotions, what will he discover about himself and his relationship and meaning to the people around him?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Tres didn't understand human emotions. He didn't understand why people cried, nor did he understand why people laughed.

Esther told him that made her sad, but Tres didn't understand 'sad'. Abel said that didn't make sense. Tres was 'living', so he had to have emotions, right?

Negative.

Tres could never say he 'enjoyed' anything, but he did like to spend a lot of time in the Vatican library. He 'enjoyed' reading, though he didn't necessarily need to. The information could be downloaded, if he requested it from Dr. Wordsmith.

But Tres 'liked' to sit in the quiet rows, towering shelves of books hanging over him on either side. He 'liked' to take in the words, discover all the things he couldn't merely find a downloadable program for.

He didn't need sleep, but rather hibernate for a few hours a night. So, when all other operatives were in bed or out on missions, he would come to the library and read for hours. In the five years he had spent at the Vatican, as a member of AX, he had almost read half the library.

In his readings, he came across a book called 'The Psychology of Self-Esteem'. He had sat and read the book in one night, seeing as it was incredibly small. Considerably smaller than all the others.

Something he read got him thinking. An excessive amount.

The book had said that having emotions are a representation of consciousness. Consciousness means that being is living.

Tres wasn't living. 'Living' was a quality for humans and animals. But at the same, he wasn't dead, was he? And what did dead actually mean?

He skimmed his fingers over the spines of the books until he found the dictionary. The word dead was right at the top in bold, like it was waiting for him to make this connection.

'Dead: no longer alive, as in, a dead body. Definition 2: (of a part of the body) having lost sensation; numb. Definition 3:-'

This is the definition of the word 'dead' that bothered him so much.

'Definition 3: having or displaying no emotion, sympathy or sensitivity.'

He didn't understand human emotions because he didn't have them. He was created as a killing machine, a Killing Doll was what he was called. He wasn't created to understand human emotions; he was only created to kill.

His creators theory was that if something had no emotional ties to anything in the world, and nothing within themselves, they would work better. 'Work' as in kill. The emotionless didn't need a reason, they only needed orders. They couldn't deem the innocent from the guilty, because emotions ruled that decision.

And they had none. Tres had none.

Therefore, he was dead.

**A/N: 'The Psychology of Self-Esteem' © 1969 by Nathaniel Branden. Yeah. A really old, boring book, but I like it like that :)**

**So, my Desirable Outcomes story isn't coming along as well as I'd like, so I decided to take a break and see if it would get a little more views or reviews and whatnot. So this is what I decided to do with my time. I dunno. This may turn into a Caterina x Tres fic, but right now I don't know.**

**Review, favorite and follow!**

**(O, _,O) Please**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Chapter two right after chapter one is uploaded yay~! *le sleep deprived*. Here ya go.**

Chapter Two

"Ah, well." It was the afternoon, and Cardinal Sforza had requested his presence. Tres calculated that it would take four-hundred sixty two seconds to reach her, but his presence wasn't required for another nine hundred. So, he had slowed his normally brisk pace.

He passed two novice Vatican patrol members outside their barracks. They were both talking, casually, not even noting his presence as he walked by.

"Ah, well," one had said to the other. "By then, he was dead anyway."

Dead. There was that word again. Ever since that night, it was haunting him. In distant conversations, being casually tossed about. Tres didn't understand why it bothered him so much. It was a word, just as any other.

He arrived four-hundred thirty eight seconds before his presence was required. As planned, despite his slowing pace. Or had he actually slowed down? No, past the novices he had resumed a normal pace.

He stood against the wall, like the obedient gunmetal hound he was. He needed to talk to Dr. Wordsmith about this uneasiness within him. It was out of place, and it needed fixed.

He was lost in the myriad of his thoughts when Sister Kate appeared in front of him. Her hologram blurred slightly before she spoke and knocked him out of his stupor. "Caterina-sama is ready for you," she said politely, and then disappeared.

Inside the room, his new master awaited at her desk. Her reading glasses sat atop her nose and her eyes were on papers in her hand.

"Ah, Tres," she said, sitting them down. "I was expecting you." She laced her fingers together and rested them on the table. "I need you to do me a favor, if you will. Nothing that will require you leaving the AX grounds."

"Yes, Caterina-sama." His response was robotic and obedient.

"I have gotten word that a few AX operatives have been less than… agreeable with our plans. Their loyalty has been faltering and they now pose a threat. Here." She handed him a paper, which he took immediately. On it was a list of operatives, their code names and unit numbers. Tres wasn't surprised to see Black Widow on the list.

"I want you to tail them, not all at once, of course," Caterina said. "Record any and all suspicious activity. Moreover, do not get yourself caught. Understood?" Tres nodded once. "Good. Any questions?"

Tres's hand twitched. _Am I dead_? The words lingered on the tip of his tongue, and he was conflicted in saying them. Apparently, she noticed this.

"Is there something wrong, Tres?" Caterina asked, confused. The Gunslinger never had any questions. He understood orders perfectly.

"Am I dead, Caterina-sama?" The words escaped him before he could decide against it. That had never happened to him before. What was that? Some slip in his processors?

"Dead?" Caterina repeated, even more confused now. "Whatever do you mean?"

"According to the Psychology of Self-Esteem, having emotions are a representation of consciousness. Consciousness means that a being is living. I do not have emotions, so I am not living. And according to definition 3 in New Oxford Dictionary 'dead' means 'having or displaying no emotion, sympathy or sensitivity.' I was created without emotions. Does this mean I am dead?"

Caterina-sama merely stared at him. Her blue eyes were wide and she looked shocked. What did this mean? Did this mean she agreed he was dead? Was she surprised he had discovered what he was?

Then, she smiled and looked down at her desk, to the papers sitting there. Of course. She did agree. Then, the Cardinal stood and approached him.

With her heels, she was taller than him, so he had to incline his head seven degrees to look at her. She put her hands on his face. "Tell me Tres," she said softly. "You would do anything for me, correct?"

"Positive."

"That is conviction," Caterina said, not showing her surprised. He had a lost look in his eyes. "Conviction is a belief. Tres, you have faith in me, correct?"

"Positive."

"Faith means you trust me." Her hands fell away from his face and she moved away. "Trust can be considered a hope. Hope is a feeling. Hope is an emotion. Tres, you are not dead. Do you remember what I told you the day we first met?"

"Positive." Of course he did. He would never forget.

"I told you you would live for me," Caterina said as she sat down. "And while you live for me, you cannot doubt yourself. You are living. You may not have emotions-" _You may not believe you do_, she wanted to correct herself "-does not mean you are dead. And you are forbidden to think this from now on. Am I understood?"

"Positive." His voice was slight quieter than before.

"Good," she said, waving her hand. "You are dismissed."

Tres nodded, turned and left. Despite Caterina-sama's words, worry still tore him apart from the inside.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Throughout the few days, Tres observed Maria Osborne, the 'Sharp Shot', operative number 09014. She was first on the list Caterina-sama had given him. The list was ordered from greatest to least, and she was at the top. On the first night, she had done nothing suspicious. Nor the second. She did her duties (helped Sister Margret in the Vatican orphanage) and went to bed, but not before bathing, praying and eating.

This was her ritual for those two days.

However, on the third, she strayed from this path. Tres watched from the shadows as she left her room and took off, dressed casually and warmly. Tres followed silently and was stepping lightly. Operatives who threatened AX also threatened Caterina-sama. This was not something he could allow.

He was loyal to her, he trusted her. So, he had hope. Hope meant he was living.

Caterina-sama's reason for suspicion grew more justified as Maria left AX grounds. She walked along the river, her pace rather quick. Like she had an appointment to keep. Her boots kept noise to a minimum and she didn't speak. She eventually reached the pier and stopped. They had been walking for nearly an hour now. Tres kept one hand on his gun, eyes scanning for the presence of anyone else. No one showed quite yet.

Tres got down to one knee, drawing one of his guns. Situations like this could become treacherous quickly. It was another four hundred forty nine seconds before another presence was identified. It came from the opposite side of the pier. Tres tried to see who it was, but couldn't from this distance. The unidentified figure stopped in front of Maria, and at this point, Tres could identify who they were.

It was Rodrick Credrick, a wanted conspirator against the AX and the Vatican. The two didn't speak at all, and Maria merely pulled a Manila envelope. On the outside was a large red stamp: [CONFIDENTIAL].

_If you should find an operative is a threat to us, bring them in for questioning._ Caterina-sama's orders had been written on the list.

Bring them in. Positive. Shoot the vampire first. He'll get away quickest when alarmed. He aimed his gun at Credrick's knee, and fired.

The bullet tore into the vampires muscle, ripping at the tendons and shattering bone. He roared and collapsed to the ground. Maria wiped her head around wildly, trying to see where the bullet had come from.

Before she knew it, she was down, too.

Tres stood to his full height, doing a quick scan around for more Methuselah. No signs of life other than the two on the ground. Maria sat up, not as affected by the bullet as Credrick. Tres's bullets were made from silver, something that could render vampires immobile for hours.

As soon as he came into view, Maria drew her own gun. With a single shot, it skid away from her. She held her stinging hand close to her chest, hissing at him.

"Damn Hound!" she cursed at him. Tres remained impassive. He was used to her hatred of him (not that if bothered him anyway, it just wasn't unusual to hear her curse at him).

With a quick kick to her head, his metal plated boot knocked her out cold. He did the same (only a little harder) to Rodrick Credrick.

_Bring them in, don't kill them._

"Mission complete."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

After hauling both Rodrick Credrick and Maria Osbourne onto his shoulders, he began taking them both back to the Vatican.

"I have caught both suspects," he said, and knew the information was being relayed to William Wordsmith. "Maria Osbourne, AKA 'Sharp Shot', operative number 09014. Caught aiding and abetting wanted conspirator, Rodrick Credrick, Methuselah."

He ended his report there, shifted Rodrick higher up on his shoulder and made his way back to the Vatican.

Rodrick and Maria were placed in cells and were to be questioned in morning. The Cardinal had requested his presence as soon as the sun broke over the horizon. Dr. Wordsmith had taken his report to her as soon as Tres had relayed it. (Caterina-sama swore he never slept.)

Tres stayed outside her office door for nearly an hour. There wasn't enough time for him to go back to the library, read and get back in time. It had been three days since he had been in the library, and he could say, with some uneasiness, that he actually missed reading.

He didn't know what it was about it all. There was just something about all the stillness, the age of it all. Hundreds of thousands of books had been burned during the war, but many people had saved them, hidden them away. There were very few, but some were from the late 20th century. Most were from the 21st, but he didn't… well, 'like' them as much.

Maybe it was… the forgetting. He liked to be enthralled with the words, it was… calming. But when did he ever need to be calmed? He couldn't explain it and it bothered him greatly. But it was addictive and almost euphoric, just to forget everything around him and focus on those stories for just a moment…

A loud 'ahem' made him jerk from his thoughts and look up. _Father Abel Nightroad. _"Good morning Tres-kun!" he said, loudly and slowly. Tres blinked.

"Information requested, Father Nightroad," he said. "Why are your speech patterns abnormal?"

"Because I told you good morning at least ten times and you didn't answer!" Abel gripped, making an exaggerated turn. "What are you thinking about, huh? What's going on in that metal head of yours?"

Tres merely blinked again. What was going on inside his head? Was it odd that even he couldn't tell? Something was wrong with him. Something was indeed wrong with him. There was… the uneasiness within him once more, just like the moment before he asked Caterina-sama if he was dead.

Should he ask Father Nightroad the same question? Caterina Sforza never had a problem lying to her operatives to keep them in line. He had watched her do it blatantly right in front of him. Who was to say… she hadn't done the same to him?

His uneasiness only grew.

"Father Nightroad," he suddenly said, interrupting the Crusnik's rant about how much Caterina-sama scared him. "Am I… dead?"

He had hesitated. Tres Iqus had hesitated? Since when?

"Pfft!" Father Nightroad scoffed loudly. "Of course you're not!" He laughed a little bit, and clamped his hand down on Tres's right shoulder. "I mean sure, you're robotic sometimes and a little weird and hard to understand, but you're not dead! Whatever would give you that idea?"

"According to Nathaniel Branden, having emotions is a symbol of consciousness and a consciousness is a symbol of being alive. I do not have emotions. So I am not alive, but dead. And according to New Oxford Dictionary, definition 3 of the word 'dead' means 'having or displaying no emotion, sympathy or sensitivity.' So, I am dead."

Abel seemed put off by all of this. Then, he laughed again. "Just because you weren't made with any emotions doesn't mean that you aren't alive," he said, sounding surprisingly reassuring. "I mean, if you asked me this, it must mean you're worried about it right? That's something."

Tres blinked again, and had to admit, he did feel slightly better hearing Father Nightroad say that. Meanwhile, the Crusnik began ranting on how cheesy it had sounded coming from him.

"Thank you… Father Nightroad."

And Abel smiled.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

When Tres was allowed to go into the Cardinal's office, she was busy already, going over the countless documents on her desk. When he came in, she looked up. "I hear my assumption was correct," she sighed, sitting back in her seat. "We did have a traitor amongst us."

"Positive," Tres replied, and Caterina nodded.

"And I was right to send you," she said, lacing her fingers in front of her face. "You brought in both a traitor and a wanted conspirator. I'm proud of you, Tres."

Tres felt a little warmth within him, but couldn't figure out what it was or why it was there. "Negative," he responded. "I was only doing what was expected of me."

Caterina was quiet for a long while, and then she spoke. "What book were you reading? Before I gave you this mission, I mean."

Tres blinked. "What do you mean?" he questioned, despite already knowing what she meant.

"You've been reading in the library," Caterina said, smiling gently. "What book are you reading?"

"…The Fatal Crown," Tres finally admitted, unsure (once more) why he was feeling uneasy. It was… it seemed to always be there now, just a little ache in his lower torso, his stomach, that wouldn't go away at this point. It was uncomfortable, but only if this situations occurred. Asking questions that… _bothered _him, as Father Nightroad had put it.

He definitely needed to go see Dr. Wordsmith.

"That's nice…" Caterina sighed, and leaned back. She had an almost wistful look on her face, her lips stretched into a nostalgic smile. "Do tell me, once you have finished, how it all went? I wish I had the time to read like I used to."

"Positive." Tres wondered why. Why did she want to know what happened? Why waste the time? He supposed maybe it was for the same reason he wanted to discover what happened. The expectation.

Dr. Wordsmith was waiting in his office when Tres arrived. He was grumbling about something under his breath, reading page upon page of a report. "Ah Tres, welcome…" he mumbled off-handedly, not sounding very enthusiastic. He tossed the report onto the collective clutter of things on his desk and sighed heavily.

"Is something wrong, Dr. Wordsmith?" Tres asked.

"No, no nothing is wrong." William noticed that he hadn't asked for a status report like normal. Hopefully that robotic tick of his had been cured in his time here. He still counted in seconds and answered with 'positive' or 'negative', but it was something The Professor would have to whittle that away with time. "Moreover, why have you come here? Not that I don't enjoy the company, but you don't usually show unless you've been injured or for your monthly back-up."

There it was again. That god awful, sickening feeling. What was it?! It was frustrating him to no end.

But… he didn't get annoyed. Or frustrated. How was he… feeling this then?

"There is this… odd feeling inside me," he said, as monotone as he could. "It arises, it seems, when I…" He trailed off, and waited for a moment before he spoke again. "Am I dead, Dr. Wordsmith?" _If anyone knows the real answer, it would be Dr. Wordsmith._

William looked surprised for a moment, and then laughed, much like Father Nightroad had. "Of course you aren't, you silly drone!" he laughed, practically doubling over. "Why in the world would you think that? Some stupid thing you read in the library?"

Tres looked down to the tiled floor, and that feeling was back, but worse than ever. Right. His fears were ridiculous. "In a book I read, it said that having emotions meant you were alive. I don't have emotions. So I am dead."

Dr. Wordsmith shook his head. "You know, for an android, normally so down to earth and realistic, you say some pretty dumb things," he said. "Tres, how many times have I worked on you now? I know you inside and out. You have the capability of emotions Tres. They've got to be in there somewhere. I mean, your EPU-"

He suddenly cut himself off. "What about my EPU?" he asked. "What is an EPU?"

Dr. Wordsmith looked at him with troubled eyes, then closed them and turned away. "Your EPU," the Professor said softly. "Your Emotions Processing Unit. Something that was disabled before you were activated. It seems… it's trying to come back on."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Wooh! Longer than normal chapter!**

**Enjoy~**

Chapter Six

"All of the HC series were made, by default, with an EPU," The Professor explained. "When your creator decided he wanted to rebel against the Vatican, he shut off the Killing Dolls' EPU to ensure they would only follow his orders. As far as I know, only Unum and Duo were activated with their EPU on."

Tres watched as he paced around the room, looking disturbingly… something. Worried? Angry? Tres couldn't tell.

"Unum was reluctant to follow orders, Duo was always an egotist, so they were shut down and reactivated, their EPU's shut off. You were made with yours automatically off, mostly because Baribaldi didn't like making the same mistake twice. Or thrice in his case."

"And if mine was shut off," Tres said. "How is it coming on again?"

"That I don't know," The Professor responded, glaring at the many stakes of reports and blueprints on his desk. "I've noticed, gradually, over the past couple of weeks, it has begun affecting you more and more. Your body is directing energy towards that area of your processing system. It's been popping up in scans.

"Though I don't exactly know what this will mean for you. Baribaldi's notebooks, though we recovered them all, were encrypted. I guess he had a theory his rebellion wouldn't succeed and took precautions."

"When did it begin?" Tres questioned, not failing to notice the troubled look on Dr. Wordsmith's face.

"…About six weeks ago." The professor's eyes narrowed down at the pages he wouldn't stop flipping through. Tres thought back to where he was six weeks ago.

He had come back from a mission in Germany. He had given his report to Caterina-sama and Sister Kate, come to Dr. Wordsmith to have the data extracted and saved on file. Then… later on that night he had gone to library, and it was the night he read the Psychology of Self-Esteem.

Ah. So that's what caused all this. He had begun to doubt himself, question things he had been told. It was when he began to realize he was not alive.

Seeing as Dr. Wordsmith was absorbed in his reports and scans, Tres left. He felt… exhausted all of a sudden. 'Emotional fatigue,' he remembered Father Nightroad calling it. He had been exhausted despite doing nothing at all that day, and that had been his excuse.

_Could this be what I am feeling?_

An EPU… he had never heard of such a thing until now. Though Dr. Wordsmith knew, yet he never mentioned it. Did he think, perhaps, it was best? Did he suppose that Tres didn't need to know?

Unum and Duo were created before he was, and the day he was activated and met them, they acted the same as he does, or… did. Emotionless, quiet, even more ruthless than he ever was. He suddenly wished he had known them before that. He wanted to know what he was going to become.

That is, unless he could find some way to reverse this.

Tres wasn't paying attention to where he was walking, and was mildly surprised to see the doors to the library in front of him. Of course he would come here. This place was always a sort of refuge to him. It makes sense he would want to come here in the midst of being confused and plagued by something you didn't understand.

He swung open the door, letting the smell of old paper and wood great him. It was always quiet here. Always so quiet. But right now it was the greatest solace he could ask for.

He didn't want to read. He didn't feel the need nor the desire to. Instead, he sat in the armchair he had read in multiple times before and closed his eyes.

If he thought about it hard enough, he had to admit he was… apprehensive about what was happening to him. Until he and the Professor could decipher his creators notebooks, they were both left in the dark.

In his time at AX, he had seen the good and bad sides of emotions. There was the happiness, the peace and the gratitude. The types of emotions Father Nightroad always displayed. A blissful outward façade (a wonderful word he had discovered in his readings), but only to cover what was on the inside.

Turmoil, anger, sadness, loss, desperation, fear, guilt. He had seen them on the faces of humans and vampires alike, and they all looked so pained. The anger of those hungry for revenge. The turmoil of those unable to save themselves and the ones they loved. The loss of those left all alone. The fear of the ones faced with one stronger than them.

The guilt in Father Nightroad's eyes when he remembered the monstrous things he has done in the past.

He opened his eyes, staring at the bookshelf beside him. It was sheer irony that his gaze should fall upon 'What Will Happen to Me'. That was exactly how he felt.

Tres decided in that moment exactly what he needed to do. He had one person in mind. One person who believed (even when his EPU was still deactivated) he had emotions, despite them not being there. One person who always seemed to have the right answer to everything when it came to things of this nature.

Sister Esther Blanchett.

**A/N: Sorry for the wait everyone (if you were waiting I mean…) I kinda got a little stuck when it came to this chapter. CURSE YOU WRITERS BLOCK! Ah… it affects us all. But I am more or less happy with the outcome. **

**So, I have a few things to talk about down here, in my little A/N. Well, Esther's gonna make an appearance, yay! But the other thing is this: **

**This fanfic is going to be pretty deep and probably angsty. I'm trying to focus in on the complexities of what it means to be human and have all these human emotions and whatnot. All the frustration and difficulties, as well as the happy endings, because I'm a sucker for one of those! And by having Tres go from feeling nothing to having all these emotions is sort of a way to show and write about that. **

**So yeah! That's what I'ma gonna do. Thanks. **

**Review!**

**(O,_,O) Please**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Tres was hesitant to talk to Sister Esther. Correction, he was probably hesitant to talk to anyone about this.

There were very few things Tres didn't know. He could fluently speak and understand every language in Europe, knew all there was needed to know about war theory, hell, he even knew the distance from Rome to Albion in centimeters.

But when it came to human emotions, he was left entirely in the dark.

Maybe that was why he was so fearful. It was hard to admit he didn't know something. That was that selfish, arrogant part of him he never knew he had until now.

AX members had never seen Tres 'wander' before. They had only seen him beeline from one place to another at a pace befitting his reason for going there. But today, Tres was moving slowly, dragging his feet.

He was stupid. Why was he doing this? He didn't want to leave the library in the first place. He was a mess. He didn't like this. He was thinking too much. Thinking was something humans did when there was nothing to be done.

He shook his head roughly when he made sure no one was around. He hated this. He didn't like being confused or scared. Granted, he knew humans didn't enjoy those two emotions, but now Tres had a whole new understanding of why.

But as fate would have it, Tres didn't have to go and find Sister Esther.

She came to him.

Or, more of ran into him, really. One moment he was alone in the courtyard and in the next, she was there. She groaned and clutched at her forehead. "Ow…" she said under her breath. "Ow my head, ow my bum, ow ow."

Tres offered his hand to her, which she took after a moment to regain herself. "I'm sorry, Sister Esther," he said to her. Though he didn't know why he was apologizing, after all she had ran into him. But if he weren't such an iron wall, he probably wouldn't have hurt her that badly.

Her forehead was red when she removed her hand, but she instantly paid it no mind when she saw who she had crashed into. "Father Tres!" she said, her voice a surprised squeak. She smiled sweetly at him. "I haven't seen you since our last mission together! It's been ages, how have you been?"

She asked these questions every time they ran into each other. Normally, he would always answer with some robotic response, looking completely bored-out-of-his-mind usual self. But this time, he was quiet, and his arched eyebrows knitted together.

"I have something I need to speak with you about, Sister Esther," he said, and only then did she realize he had stopped adding her last name. "But it must be held in the highest security, for even Caterina-sama must not know."

Sister Esther's blue eyes widened at that. Secret enough to be a don't-tell-Caterina-sama level secret? Oh, Lord help me… she thought.

"Of course, Father Tres, tell me."

Tres didn't know where to begin. Did he start with explaining what an EPU was? Or did he start from when he read in the library? Or maybe at his creation? He sighed, and Esther noted he looked… lost. It frightened her to see the normally so stoic android look like that.

"Here," Sister Esther said, grabbing his hand. She yanked at his arm (which only succeeding in hurting her own), and pulled him towards the fountain in the center. "Sit down and start from the very beginning."

"It is quite a long story," Tres mumbled quietly. Esther smiled and put her hand on his shoulder.

"I'll listen."

So Tres started at the very beginning. Telling her of Unum and Duo and their EPU's and his own. Then he told her what he read and his uneasiness and confusion. He told her what Caterina, Abel and William had said about him not being 'dead', but just a different definition of alive. Then, he told her about the things he was onslaught with at the moment: the unbearable confusion and the worry.

Though he was hesitant to start, when he began to speak, he found he couldn't stop. He told her everything, surprised at how easy it was to speak to her.

Well, of course. Caterina was his boss, she was the Iron Lady, the head-honcho. She was called such because of her desire and her ability to keep her emotions out of her decisions. Talking to her about these things… just seemed too wrong.

Abel was the Crusnik. He had confided in Tres many times in the past, and Tres was always there to listen and give the best response he could. It was always so straight forward and direct that Abel preferred talking to the Gunslinger above anyone else. He didn't beat around the bush or waste petty, air headed words like 'I'm sorry' or 'It'll all be okay.'

Tres understood that everything would probably never 'be okay'. There were always adversities you had to face in life, whether you liked it or not. And as long as an agreement to peace can be made between Methuselah and humans, the road to peace hadn't yet been located.

After he had finished his, as he called it, 'rant', Sister Esther was quiet. She was looking at a line of ants crawling around on the stone walkway. As Tres watched them, he found with surprise that he felt sorry for them. This world was already so big to him. It must be thousands of times larger for those little ants.

Without looking away, Esther began to speak. "I always knew there was no way you could been created with nothing in here," she said, touching her heart as she spoke. "But this is all… sad, honestly. Your creator, cutting all ties to your emotions like that? Monstrous!"

Tres's amber eyes looked at her profile. She huffed and crossed her arms, pressing her rosary against her. "I understand you're confused. I guess you don't have anyone to really talk to about things like this.

"Emotions are smothering things," she whispered, smiling almost wistfully. "When you're sad and alone, it can feel as though you are being crushed. But when you are happy, among friends, and… especially in love, you could never feel better."

Love. There was one of those words he heard often. 'I love you' of 'I'm in love with you'. "But what is love?" he asked softly.

Esther turned to him, meeting his troubled gaze. Her blue eyes gleamed gently. "It's all part of the human experience, Tres," she said, her voice comforting. "It might take some time, some rough patches and trials, but you'll have to figure it out." She smiled widely. "And you needn't worry. I'll be here for you every step of the way. I promise."

Tres held her gaze for a few more moments before he looked away again. Those ants were gone, scurrying back into their home where everything was so familiar and so comforting. Everything in front of Tres was dark, unexplored and confusing, but he was willing to face it.

He felt warmth overtake his chest. It was an extremely odd feeling, out of place like everything seemed to be. At the same time however, it wasn't unpleasant. …in fact, it made him want to… smile.

And so he did. Just a little bit. It felt weird, to have him mouth pulled in such a way. Esther didn't see; he wouldn't allow it quite yet.

"Thank you," he said, his voice sincere.

And Esther smiled as well.

**A/N: Phew. Another chapter finished! I think that conversation went nicely, though do tell me what you think. I often have a hard time keep characters in character, especially… well, everyone. Hehe… But Tres is changing, so I suppose it'll be okay if he's a little OOC…**

**Review!**

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	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Throughout the next month, Tres continued down the list Caterina-sama had given. Despite his heavy suspicion of her, Monica Argento, the Black Widow, did nothing out of the ordinary. (That is, drink, swear and gripe fervently.) No other agent displayed any suspicious behavior. Caterina was pleased, seeing as she hated betrayal more than anything.

"Thank you for this, Tres," she had said, despite not needing to. She did not say any more, and he hadn't responded. Over the past weeks, he had felt more… tired than usual. He was dragging his feet, Dr. Wordsmith said constantly. He had Tres come to him every week now, instead of every month to check the progression of… what was happening to him.

Dr. Wordsmith called it his "humanization". Tres didn't know what to consider it. He'd been taught all his life that he was not a human, he was a machine, built to carry out the mission he was given by his creator. It was all he had ever known. But he was stepping into something new, something he had never seen, read or heard about before. He didn't like to consider it a 'humanization', but just a transformation.

He didn't like any of this. He didn't like changing. He preferred the way he was, the way he used to be. Nothing was confusing, he didn't always second guess anything he thought or did. He didn't like this transformation.

And it was getting worse.

It wasn't just permanent uneasiness now. There were also indescribable, explainable flashes of _anger. _He was used to, by now, Dr. Wordsmith's constant rambling, and it had never bothered him before. But while he was sitting on a (now surprisingly cold) table, Dr. Wordsmith had started it again. Rambling incessantly. Tres sat there, silently. But he felt something hot and uncomfortable bubbling within him.

Dr. Wordsmith had stopped talking then, when he noticed Tres's hands. He had been gripping the edge of the metal table (3 inches thick…) very tightly. "Tres, are you alright?" he'd asked, and when the Professor finally got his point across to the Gunslinger, the android had realized that he had left deep hand prints in the table.

Only upon thinking about it later, he realized that he had… he had wanted to strangle the Professor. If only to make him shut up for a minute. It disturbed him greatly. Tonight, he sat on the floor instead of on his bed, instead of going to the library, and just… did nothing.

He stared at the wall, at the plain white of it, and decided he… he hated it. He hated all the blankness, the nothing that it was in his room. Caterina-sama's bedroom was red and gold and beige, the imperial colors of Milan. Esther's room was royal blue with snow white accents.

His was just white. Blank. Nothing. It bothered him. He hated it, _hated it, _HATED IT. He closed his eyes, his head falling to his knees. Everything was so _wrong._ He was a machine, not a human. He shouldn't have to do this, he shouldn't have to put up with this. He hated this…

The two of them hadn't managed to decipher anything more about an EPU in Baribaldi's notebooks. Everything about the Emotions Processing Unit was encrypted so much more heavily than everything else. It was slow working, but Tres was getting more and more frustrated. At one point he snapped a pencil right in half without realizing he was even tightening his grip.

Since that day, Dr. Wordsmith decided he could handle the project himself. He suspected Tres was going through an emotional relapse, and he had been around plenty of women enough to realize he was going to be unpredictable. He often found himself chuckling at his own joke he didn't share with anyone else. Tres was like a woman at a certain time of the month.

When Tres wasn't required to do anything, he stayed in the library. He didn't read, he didn't want to anymore. He just sat in the silence alone, his eyes closed, and just listening. It was a warm day, so he had opened the windows. Warm, gentle winds blew into the room and sunlight bathed the dusty bookshelves and the old rug. He sat just below one of the open windows, letting the sunlight bathe over him and feeling the wind ruffle his hair.

The library looked extremely small from the outside, but it was bigger on the inside than it seemed. (**A/N: like the TARDIS haha...) **The inside followed the same pattern, with a single desk in the middle. The bookshelves spread from the center, with windows intermittent for every two rows. Where there wasn't a window, there was, instead, a chair between the shelves.

This was the place that Tres felt the most comfortable. If he had to pick somewhere to live, it would be here. He loved the soft browns and greens, the deep mahogany wood of the chairs and bookshelves. He leaned back against the wall. The birds chirped outside, and he could almost barely hear the murmur of people talking.

This is where he wanted to live.

Esther Blanchett had to admit, she was really worried for Tres. Ever since their conversation a few weeks ago, she had seen neither hide nor hair of the android. She had been busy, yes, running errands for the Vatican in cities close to Rome (mostly delivering or receiving documents for Lady Caterina), but she probably should have made more of an effort to see him.

He hadn't been his normal Tres self. He had been confused and scared (though he would have never admitted it), and that scared Esther. She had once asked him if he had had any emotions, and when he had replied with a sharp "negative", she had told him that made her sad. She knew then that he hadn't understood, but now…

She found Dr. Wordsmith by accident, nearly crashing into him much like she had Tres. She really needed to work on looking where she walked… He had laughed at it, brushing it off as merely an accident. And when she had asked, he told her exactly where he was.

"The library, over in the north side of the Vatican grounds."

So that was where Esther went.

**A/N: Next chapter: Tres has a very… unique conversation with our Esther-san.**

**Review!**

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	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Esther had a hard time finding the library. She hadn't realized there even was one on the Vatican grounds. When she did see any sight of it, it was really by pure luck. The outside of the building was covered in vines, wrapping around the walls like a boa constrictor. Overgrown trees and bushes crowded around the pathway, almost blocking it from view.

The doors gleamed in the sunlight. They were old, red and brown and green. She wanted to open the door and walk in, but she was hesitant to do so. _Wouldn't that be rude? _she wondered to herself. So, she brought up her hand and knocked on the door. She brought her hands together in front of her and waited. And waited.

Maybe he wasn't in there? Or… maybe he wanted to be alone. She grabbed the door handle and went in.

God, it was beautiful in here! Why had she never known of this place? The room smelled old, like aged leather, wood and paper. Light came in through the open windows as well as a breeze that ruffled her hair. It was quiet, other than the tweeting of the birds outside. Most of all, it was so peaceful in here. It was so much better than any cathedral.

"Father Tres?" she asked aloud, but there was no response. "Father Tres, I know you're in here." She walked forward until her hand glided over the handle of one of his customized Beretta's1. The other was lying beside it.

She looked down each of the rows until she located the Gunslinger. He was sitting on the floor underneath the window, his knees brought up to his chest. His eyes were closed and he was leaned back against the wall. He looked to be… asleep? "Tres?" she questioned again, and he opened his amber eyes.

"Sister Esther." He didn't say anything more. She went and sat just in front of him, seeing as the isle between the shelves wasn't quite wide enough for them both to sit side by side.

"Father Tres, talk to me," she said, having noted the odd look in his eyes. A look of desperation and loss. A look that shouldn't be there. "Tell me what's wrong."

Tres looked away from her, looking much more troubled then she had ever seen before. "Everything," he told her. That was one of those things about Esther that Tres hated and liked at the same time. He was unable to lie to her, and he was unable to keep his words in his mouth. They escaped freely, without his consent.

Esther waited for him to say more, and when he did, she listened carefully. "It's all so wrong," he said, his voice surprisingly broken. It broke Esther's heart to hear that. "I can't think clearly anymore. I wanted to… I wanted to strangle Dr. Wordsmith, if only to get him to shut up. I'm sick of the blankness in my room and I don't want to do anything. I just want to sit here and stay forever. I don't like feeling like this Esther. I hate it, I can't stand it anymore."

Esther listened to the anger in his voice and knew she was right to come find him. He needed someone to talk to, someone to help him through all this. "Father Tres, I understand you're confused right now," she whispered softly. "It sounds like you're going through depression."

Tres's amber eyes met hers. "And what is that?"

Esther didn't answer immediately, but instead stood up. She knew there was a dictionary around here somewhere. She looked at the books in the shelves until she found what she was looking for on the next shelf.

Depression," she said aloud, the book heavy in her hand. "A condition of mental disturbance characterized by depression to a greater degree than seems warranted by the external circumstances, typically with lack of energy and difficulty in maintaining concentration or interest in life." She flipped the page. "Symptoms of depression are: Difficulty concentrating, remembering details, and making decisions, fatigue and decreased energy, feelings of guilt, worthlessness, and/or helplessness, feelings of hopelessness and/or pessimism. Irritability, restlessness, loss of interest in activities or hobbies once pleasurable. In your case, probably reading." He kept his eyes on the worn carpet, and she didn't even know if he was listening anymore.

"And persistent feelings or sadness, anxiety, or emptiness." Esther closed the book and sat it on the shelf beside her, looking down at him. "Emptiness, like how you believe you're dead and not alive."

Esther knelt in front of Tres, reaching out to put her hands on his cheeks to make him look at her. "Tres, just because on person says something doesn't mean you're dead, remember? Everyone has opinions. I think you're alive. And so does Father Nightroad and Dr. Wordsmith and Lady Caterina. And now, you do have emotions.

"Like I said, it would take time for you to understand everything that you're feeling. It's coming out all at once and you can't deal with it all. At least not alone." She put her hand over top of his own, slightly surprised to see he didn't have his gloves on. (And yet, he still had skin there, and he had fingernails! But why was this so strange to her? Probably because she had never seen it…)

"Father Tres, I know how confusing the world can be, especially when you're lost within yourself. When I left Istavan to come to Rome, I didn't know if I was making the right choice. I wanted to help people and I wanted to come with you and Father Nightroad. Bishop Vitez

always told me to follow my dreams, and my dream was always to help people. And right now, Father Tres, I want to help you."

"But why?" he asked, his voice quiet. She smiled at him, softly.

"Because, Tres," she said, sitting back now. She took in the look of his lost face, the way he was huddled up against the wall, in the corner, like he was trying to hide from the world. "You're lost, and you need to find your way through all of this. You don't need to worry anymore, Father Tres."

She smiled again, and Tres found that he had such solace in her smile. In her presence. It wasn't something he had felt with anyone else. Not with Caterina-sama, though he owed her his life. Not with Dr. Wordsmith, though the Professor was trying everything he could to help him.

"I'm always going to be here."

**1**** I'm pretty sure that Tres's guns are Beretta 90TWO twins, though they are customized. They're identified as being Jericho M13's. They fire 13mm 512 Maxima Rounds. Correct me if I'm wrong.**

**A/N: Nice sappy stuff :3 So, I really don't know how long to make this fanfiction. I'm just going to keep going until I run out of ideas. Sound good?**

**Review**

**(O,_,O) Please**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

As many nights as Tres spent in the library, he had never felt as tired as he had tonight. He sat at the desk in the center of the library, the book The Fatal Crown in front of him. After talking to Esther, he had felt slightly better. Knowing that someone was going to be there for him reassured him that everything was going to be… okay.

So he got back to reading again. Lady Caterina had asked him to tell her how the book went, and he reminded himself, with much apprehension, that he hadn't been reading it at all for the past month. He wasn't even sure Caterina-sama remembered what she had asked him to do, but he wanted to finish it for himself.

But when the sun began setting, he found he was unable to keep his eyes open. The words blurred in and out of focus. He didn't know why at the moment. He rested his cheek against his palm, closing his eyes…

When he opened them again, he wasn't in the library anymore. There was no book, no desk, no calming room. He was in complete darkness. He couldn't move his legs to walk, and he couldn't speak, but he looked around, trying to see where he was. Had he been ambushed? He reached for his guns, only to find that they weren't there.

He heard footsteps, but he couldn't tell where they were coming from. They echoed around him and they were rushed. Then, a flash of light, of color. There was a person. Running past him. He couldn't see who they were; he only saw a body, their clothes.

Uniforms like the one he had been given when he was first created.

Who was it? Had a Killing Doll other than himself survived? Other than Duo? Was it Unum? Or Septem? He listened to the footsteps as they doubled. There were two? He spun around, looking for any sign of them. His voice still refused to escape his throat.

Then, everything lit up. The black room became blindingly white. All around him were his brothers. Unum and Duo were there as well, but he saw no sign of emotion in their cold amber eyes. "You failed, Tres Iqus." The voice was so familiar… one he hadn't heard in years…

Professor Gepetto Garibaldi.

He turned and, behind his brothers, he saw him. His creator had his eyes narrowed, and Tres felt an unnatural fear run through him. He wanted nothing more than to turn and run but he couldn't. One, he was surrounded, and two, he couldn't move.

"The reason you were created was to help me destroy the Vatican," he continued, his voice cold. "Your brothers died for me and what did you do? You watched them die and did nothing. You accepted the hand of the Iron bitch and became her subject." The rest of the HC series took a step closer to him, tightening the circle.

"She's not," Tres said bravely, finally finding his voice. "She is not a-"

And as suddenly as it came, it was gone. He was back in the darkness again. His brothers and Gepetto were gone once more. And a new scene came once more. He was pressed against the wall, by Duo, Bartholomew. "Pathetic," his brother hissed in his face. "I cannot understand why you hold these memories to the highest security. You're weak, you are not a machine."

And then Duo was gone. Tres fell to his knees, the pressure of his brothers hand still lingering around his neck.

_I'm not a machine… machine's know how to follow orders, machines don't have emotions, machines don't feel like this. I'm not human, I've never been human…_

_What am I?_

And then he woke up, feeling something touch his arm. He shot up so fast he fell backwards. He forgot he was still in the library. He fell back painfully, his guns digging into his back. _Pain? I don't feel pain…_ He looked up, seeing Sister Esther standing there, out of breath.

"Father Tres?" He looked out the window, noticing the sun was up. Had he… slept the entire night? "Father Tres, are you okay? You were…"

_I was what? _He wondered that very thing himself. So many things were happening, and he felt it was much too fast. What was that? A memory? No, it couldn't have been. Gepetto Garibaldi had never had that conversation with him before. His brothers had never surrounded him like that before. And Duo? Yes, that had happened. That was a memory.

Yet, he did not understand. What was that? A loop in his memory banks? Moreover, how had it become day time so quickly? Not even twenty-six hundred seconds had passed since he had closed his eyes.

"You were sleeping and I thought you looked a little distressed…" The rest of Sister Esther's statement caught him off guard. Sleeping? No, sleeping was something humans did, and he was not…

He was not machine, but he was not human either. So… what was he again?

He stood up abruptly, feeling oddly flustered again. "Sleeping, no I couldn't have been…" he mumbled to himself.

Tres was lost once more, not knowing what to say or how to react to the possibility that he had been _sleeping _of all things. Humans slept, but he wasn't human. Machine's didn't sleep, so that meant he wasn't a machine. So… was he more human than machine now? No, impossible. He understood he looked human, and had a human brain, but everything else within him was substituted with metal parts and wires.

He ignored Sister Esther's questioning looks and left the library abruptly.

After all this, he realized he desperately needed to decipher his creator's notebooks on Duo and Unum. It was the only way he was going to be able to figure out what was going on. If Tres knew anything, it was that Gepetto Garibaldi was very thorough in his notes. It would be there, he knew it.

It would just be a matter of deciphering the code encrypting the information he needed.

**A/N: Chapter Ten completed! :D **

**So, for this fanfic, I'm considering how Tres was created. (Like how he is a machine with a brain and brain stem.) So there are many parts of his mind closed off due to the deactivation of his EPU, which I made up for this fic. Like the parts of his mind that control dreams and emotions. **

**Next chapter: Tres attempts to decipher his creators notes on Duo and Unum. But as he does, what sort of sick, twisted things will he discover?**

**Review = love **


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I APOLOGIZE FOR THIS CHAPTER. I think I did a good job though *beaming with pride***

Chapter Eleven

The Professor wasn't in his office when Tres came in. In fact, his monitor was off and it was cold, signaling that the man hadn't been in it for at least a day. _He's probably off experimenting, _Tres thought, thinking of Poseidon WWW. _Most likely another failure…_

Tres didn't mind the cold, and his heavy priest robes would keep him warm anyway. Still, it didn't matter regardless. After searching through the various boxes that AX had kept on the HC series and Gepetto Garibaldi, he finally found the two, faded brown notebooks labeled 'HC-IX' and 'HC-IIX'. Unum and Duo.

Tres knew, even before he started, that deciphering the notebooks was going to be a trying task. Dr. Wordsmith had been trying for three years on Tres's notebook, and had only gotten about a third of the way through it. Hopefully Tres would have better luck. At this point, he was desperate.

He didn't know how long he sat there, trying to figure out in his head where to even begin. It made no sense, there weren't even words!

"Vkxambhg hgx: ngnf," said the first line. Complete gibberish. No pattern, no set rule that Tres could see. It was the first time in a long while did he think that his creator had been a complete psychopath. "T vextk lnvxll, xqvvxim yhk hgx yetp: max XIN, exym hg, kxlnemxw bg AV-BQ mh wxyr wbkxvm hkwxkl."

After reading over that bit for hours, trying to conduct some sort of reasoning behind the letters, something clicked. Only three words in the English language began with only one letter: a, I and O, in poetry uses, of course. From Tres's notebook, after deciphered, showed Gepetto did not use these patterns, so all that was left was 'A' or 'I'. _T = I, A _he wrote. There was a start.

Considering that 't' was, in fact, an 'a', he began from there, deciphering every _t _he saw, There were only two, so it didn't help him as much as he needed it to. But he kept going. He assumed XIN had only two possible uses: for OPS or EPU. Using OPS as XIN, he worked on that.

_Vk__o__ambhg hg__o__: sgsf. A ve__o__ll, __o__qvv__op__m yhk hg__o__ yetp: max __OPS__, e__o__ym hg, k__o__lnem__o__w bg AV-BQ mh w__o__yr wbk__o__vm hkw__o__kl._

Using _hg__o_ as his basis, he wrote down a list of every word that ended in _o._ There were a few options: _who, bio, ego, ago, two, _and _duo. _So now, he wrote: _h=d, g=u _and began again from there.

No, the words were back to not making sense. He scratched out '_duo'_ and began again with '_who'. _No sense once more. He retried with _'bio'; _no luck. He took a breath to calm himself, as this was frustrating him to no end.

He tried again with '_two'._

Nothing. Start all over. He crumpled up the paper and threw it haphazardly against the floor. His head was hurting, but there was no sign of physical injury. This was getting infuriating.

This time, he repeated the process, using _EPU _as _XIN. _

As the hours wore on, he realized that words were starting to form from all this gibberish. He kept working on it, and soon, he had deciphered the first three words.

_Creation one: unum._

This was it. He had cracked it. And he knew exactly what Gepetto was using. A Caesar cipher. He had read about it in a book about Rome, more specifically, of Julius Caesar. He remembered the image provided, and drew it out on the paper he was writing on, using T for A, and so on.

Using the image he had drawn, he deciphered the rest.

_Creation one: unum. A clear success, except for one flaw: the EPU, left on, resulted in HC-IX to defy direct orders. _

The full reality of what Tres had just done didn't sink in for a few moments. But he realized, with an odd feeling of pride, that he had just cracked Gepetto Garibaldi's code. Quickly, he grabbed his own notebook and read over it, to see if the Caesar cipher applied there as well. It did, though every letter had been shifted over two. 'A' now corresponded to 'R' and so on.

And Tres had that irresistible urge to smile again.

He really needed to find the Professor.

He left the cold room in favor of the warmth of outside. Tres hadn't realized it, but he had been working for nearly two days straight. He should be exhausted, but he was only exhilarated. He went to the Professor's _testing room_, as it was so dubbed, and wasn't surprised to find Dr. Wordsmith there.

He was surprised to see Abel.

As he swung the reinforced door open, Abel looked him up and down, a stunned look on his face. "Geez, Tres-kun…" he murmured somewhat sheepishly. "You look… exhausted." _A pure understatement_, the Crusnik thought to himself. _He looks awful. But what is that gleam in his eye? _

"Dr. Wordsmith," Tres said, ignoring his partner's questioning looks. "I did it. I cracked the code."

William's eyebrows knitted. "What code? What do you mean?"

Abel gapped openly as Tres did something so… un-Treslike. His broad shoulders dropped as though a weight had been put on them. He grabbed Dr. Wordsmith by the wrist and drug him outside the bunker, and back towards his office.

"Tres, what are you doing?" Dr. Wordsmith said, sounding incredibly aghast. Tres didn't grace him with any sort of response until they got to the office.

"Look," Tres said, flipping open the notebook on Unum. "I've figured it out. What he's using to encrypt his notes. It's called a Caesar cipher, designed by the ancient Roman emperor Julius Caesar. Watch." Tres redrew the cipher for Unum, and then explained how the letters correlated together, one by one.

Dr. Wordsmith listened quietly the entire time, merely bobbing his head occasionally.

"There was a book in the library I read about ancient Rome and the emperors," Tres said. "Caesar used the cipher to encrypt documents with military significance, just like Gepetto Garibaldi has done in his notebooks. The book said it was easy to crack, but considering it hadn't been used since long before the Apocalypse, I suspect he thought it would be safe."

William smiled and clamped him hard on the shoulder. "I'm proud of you, Tres," he said. "Think of all the things we'll be able to discover now! Oh, I can't wait to decipher all of them!"

"Each notebook consists of a different shift of letters," Tres explained further. "In Unum's, 'A' corresponds with 'T'. In mine, 'A' matches with 'R'. I'm fairly certain that this pattern continues indefinitely."

"Tres, I could kiss you right now…" Dr. Wordsmith murmured dreamily.

To which Tres quickly replied, "Please, refrain from doing so."

**A/N: Wow. Okay. I feel you Tres-kun, I have a headache too. So, I used the Caesar cipher. Mhm. Easy to crack, I know. But I had writer's block and it was there so… (sue me) (not really, I'm already very poor, you would get nothing)**

**Thanks to yume girl 91 for reviewing and favoriting this! It warms my heart and fuels me to put out new chapters when people review! (THANK YOU LIKE A LOT OMG)**

**Review!**

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	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: SORRY FOR THE DELAY! Here's the next chapter of Trying to Understand.**

Chapter Twelve

Since William understood how badly Tres wanted to go through Unum and Duo's notebooks, he let the Gunslinger handle it. Personally, he was going to delve into Tres's notebook. He wanted to see what more there was to the Gunslinger.

So, the pair worked together in silence. Tres had already memorized the Caesar cipher for Unum, and his CPU now worked for him, switching letters to make sense to him.

_Creation one: unum. A clear success, except for one flaw: the EPU, left on, resulted in HC-IX to defy direct orders_. The first sentence he deciphered. Several diagrams of what he assumed to be an EPU were below it.

It was a very small, curved piece of metal that went above the brain stem, more of an attachment really. Tres found himself subconsciously touching the back of his head, above where it would be. _So that's where you are, huh?_ he thought, but didn't feel anything other than wonder. That little thing was causing all this mess…

_Albion has been more than gracious towards my advancements. Troops constantly die due to inadequate guidance from their so called 'leaders'. Gaining subjects has been easier than I would expect. Since the alliance between Albion and the Vatican has indeed become a inauspicious one, they have not caught wind of this. _

_It took several tries, several years, and several changes to original plans and models to develop my first success. HC-IX, the first of the Killing Doll sequence. Homo Caedelius, the people made for destructions sake._

_The body was of a commander, Robert Fredrickson. He was twenty nine years of age._

At this point, Tres stopped reading rather abruptly. He… he had been using people? Granted, Tres knew little of his creation, but didn't suspect something like this…

_He looked rather gruff, nothing I needed. Funding was short so I could not make them tall nor muscular, as wiring and rods for bones were not consistently found. Titanium is quite expensive, and the Tungsten alloy needed for the brain casing is hard to find and work with. _

_Having never had children, I had an unexplainable desire to make them, how should I say, baby faced. Sheep dog looking. It was a spur of the moment decision, one constructed whilst my mind was drunk on coffee, tea and sleep deprivation. _

_And indeed, these things I wanted to create, they were absolutely my children. I gave them life while they had none. It made me feel like God. _

Tres turned a few pages.

_Unum is a rather sassy character. Through my heartened efforts I have discovered his unwillingness to obey orders to the T, as the English saying goes, and comes off as lazy. Maybe it if residual fragments of Robert Fredrickson's mind, though God willing, it is not. My child need not be burdened by the life before. _

_As for my next planned creation, he will be the exact same way. My hypothesis is that this one, HC-IIX, Duo Iqus, will be more cooperative. If he is not, I will re-evaluate my notes and discover the problem. _

Tres closed the notebook and abruptly stood up, pushing his chair back with a loud grating noise.

Professor Wordsmith looked up just before Tres grabbed his notebook and began skimming quickly.

He ignored William's questions as he looked through the jumbled words, only needing to find one thing. It was two pages away, situated on the seventh line from the top. There. It glared at him, pointedly mocking him. There were only two words.

_Alexander Braddock. _

His name.

_My third subject was named Alexander Braddock, a General from out of Lewes. He was only twenty years old. The youngest of all my subjects. I felt bad for him. He had a family back home, I know because I found a picture in the pocket of his coat._

Tres flipped the page, and found there was a picture. It was held in by something sticky, like resin. But it showed an older woman, with kind brown eyes standing beside another, younger man. In front of them were two girls, twins from the looks of them, with soft blonde hair curled into ringlets.

That younger man was him.

Staring down at the slightly faded picture, he felt like he was staring at an alien. The man in the picture looked nothing like him: his face was narrower, his eyebrows not as sharp, his hair longer, lips not as full. Eyes were bright, vibrant green and a smile was on that face.

Nothing like him at all.

So this was where he had come from. From this family, from Lewes. The two young children in the photo would most likely be alive, or, at the least, not died of old age. They would be in their thirties now, he realized.

If he went back to Lewes, would be able to find them? His… sisters?

A gave the book back to Dr. Wordsmith and left. He was not seeking sanctuary, but rather sleep. He was completely drained and it felt awful. He now understood how Esther or Abel felt when they said they were tired.

He made his way slowly to his room, his pace not as fast as normal. It was dark, and he noticed he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. The struggle was evident in the way his eyelids drooped every ten seconds.

Once he made it to his room, with its plain white walls, he began to hate it again, but it didn't matter. He didn't even leave his guns on the table before collapsing in the bed and falling asleep.

–––

Tres did not sleep well. He was plagued by fleeting images of two girls screaming and a fire. There were brief bursts of images, too quick to pick out anything. Those two girls could be his sisters; the fire could be destroying his home.

When he jolted awake, he noticed there was a heavy light in the room. What time was it? It was 3:42.

…he had slept most of the afternoon!

A knocking sounded at his door, and Tres recognized it as the sound that had woke him. "Father Tres, are you in there?" It was Sister Esther.

"Yes," he mumbled, just loud enough for her to hear. The door swung open, and she came in. Her white/blue habit nearly blended in with the white of his room.

"Oh, wow…" she breathed, looking at him. "You look exhausted."

"That is because I am." His answer was short, clipped. He hadn't meant to sound irritated. He supposed he wasn't a… what was the word? Morning person. He supposed he wasn't a morning person yet.

But Esther merely smiled widely and came over to where he sat. She reached out her hand and ran her fingers through his brown hair. Her nails brushed along his scalp and he found his eyes closing against his will once more, a contented sigh escaping him.

"Lay back down, then," she whispered gently. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I haven't seen you since you stormed out of the library." Oh, right. That incident seemed like it had been so long ago, when in reality it had only been three days. But Tres didn't waste energy thinking on that. Esther practically forced him to lie back down, her fingers still running their course through his hair. It felt no incredibly nice.

Esther smiled when he relaxed, signaling he was asleep now. Carefully, she unsnapped the clasps on his gun holsters, and began to pull out his Jericho M13's. Goodness, they were heavy! She had to heave them up with both hands to get them onto the bedside table. Then she pulled off his heavy metal rosary, not allowing it to clatter too heavily on the wood.

She ran her fingers through his sinfully soft brown hair before leaning down, pressing her lips gently to his forehead.

"Sleep well, Tres-kun."

**A/N: Well, we found out more about Tres and his origins (or in my story at least, barhar). And Esther came back, yay! We've got the beginning of their relationship, now that she finally stopped calling him 'Father Tres' and now substituted 'Tres-kun'.**

**So, in Japan (I'm pretty sure, please correct me if I am wrong), the honorific of '-kun' is used for very close friends or family members. It's meant to be endearing. '-chan' is used among couples. 'Shinpu' is used when speaking to a Catholic priest. I think calling someone by their first name only, without an honorific, is very uncommon in Japan.**

**Review!**

**(O,_,O) Please**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

When Tres woke again, it had been an hour and he was alone. He found, with some surprise, he missed Esther's presence. When he had gotten his guns and rosary back on, which he had noticed she had taken off, he left, intent on completing only one thing.

He went to the reserve building, where the storage rooms were located down in the basement. It was locked up with the highest security the AX had. Information on all of the Vatican's secret operations, along with everything on their operatives, were here. Only members of the Papal State Affairs Special Operations Section were allowed to enter.

Inside, the room smelled heavily of dust and paper. Several cases of files and information the Vatican deemed necessary were stacked ceiling high. But he had been here before; he knew exactly where he needed to look. He went directly into the midst of the boxes, and found what he needed.

'Tres Iqus, AX Operative 02, Gunslinger'. His own files. From his meeting with Abel Nightroad in St. Angelo to now. Professor Wordsmith made it his personal project (despite it being his job, anyway) to make sure every file was absolutely up to date.

He pulled the box out of the stack it was within, sat it on the floor and opened it. They were all organized by year. He reached back to 3055, the year of the battle of St. Angelo, and pulled out the file it held.

He knew Father Nightroad had to write his account of what happened that day, and since Tres had never read it, he was honestly curious. He didn't know where this sudden whim had come from, but it was something he felt he needed.

_April 3055 – St. Angelo_

_Lady Caterina called me out to St. Angelo to suppress the HC series rebellion, led by Gepetto Garibaldi. There were ten of them holding down the fort inside the city. I didn't know exactly what I would be facing, as no one had seen the HC units in combat before. They all looked exactly the same, with slight variations in hair length, uniforms and guns. They had their model number front and center. Numbers Nine and Ten greeted me upon my arrival at the outer wall. They were stronger than I expected them to be, so I activated Crusnik at 40% release. Inside were the others. One through Eight. I didn't see Professor Garibaldi, so I assumed he had fled to let his Dolls handle me. I sliced through five and seven immediately, their gunfire just barely grazing me. Five, Six and Three surrounded me in a triad formation then. With a swing of my scythe, I had cut off Three's right arm and knocked away one of his guns, killed Five and cut Six's gun in half. His body soon followed. Though I had some close calls, I cut them down. Well, all except for Three._

_Overall, he seemed to be the one with the best battle experience. I didn't exactly know if the red liquid pooling all around the two of us was blood or not, but I didn't want to spill anymore. I didn't want to have to kill him. But he was insistent that he didn't have blood, that he was not human, but rather a machine. He fired at me, and I found it sad he wouldn't surrender like I had asked. So I cut him down as well. Caterina arrived shortly after, told me she was pleased the rebellion had been suppressed, and said I could leave. I asked what had become of Garibaldi, and she told me that he had committed suicide rather than be captured by AX. I told her it was a shame that I had to kill all the HC Killing Dolls, but she convinced me it was necessary. That was the last I heard her say before I left the fort._

The report ended there. That was all Abel had written. Tres had known that the Crusnik hadn't wanted to kill him and his brothers, but he hadn't thought he truly regretted it. So, it seemed that Abel really did consider him a human back then.

He went further into the files, looking for anything he could on the human he was before. On Alexander Braddock. He found nothing on that name specifically, but he did find a newspaper from Lewes.

On May 2nd, 3034. It was old and faded, obviously been through much weathering. There was one picture, and Tres was surprised to see what of.

A building on fire.

_Fire destroys local family's home_, read the title. He hesitated before reading more.

_In this small town, the Braddock's are well known. Their eldest son, Alexander Braddock, is a General in Albion's national army. Their mother, Lidia Braddock, is the towns nurse. Her daughters, Linda and Alexis, are aspiring to be like their mother. Arsons attacked last night, burning down the family home that had been standing for as long as Armageddon, nearly killing Linda and Alexis Braddock and severly injuring their elder brother, Alexander. He-_

The rest was blocked by a heavy brown stain. He put it back in the box, disappointed, but more curious now. Lewes, Albion itself was so far away from here. Even if his sisters were still alive, he wouldn't be able to go and find them quite yet.

And where had that paper came from? He didn't recall it ever being there before. Or maybe it was simply because he didn't think it was necessary at the time he had seen it before. So, he stood up and left the cold, dark room, instead heading through the security ports to the outside world. He wanted to look for more, but just as he was about to head to the records lab, he recieved a transmission.

_"Gunslinger, Caterina-sama requires your presence here in 600 seconds." _It was Sister Kate. _"You and Sister Blanchett are to depart for Letetia in the Kingdom of Franc. Is that understood?"_

"Positive, Iron Maiden," he replied, and the transmission cut off. 600 seconds. 10 minutes. He wasn't too far away from Caterina-sama's office. Still, he sighed and headed there anyway, standing at attention just outside her door. It was nearly a minute before they were due in did Tres hear someone running down the hall.

Esther put her hands on her knees in front of him, looking quite flustered. His mouth quirked at the sight, though he did not notice. "I'm not late am I?" she gushed, straightening her habit and fixing her hair with the window as a mirror.

"No, you're not," Tres responded. "You still have a few moments." She looked back at him, and smiled warmly. He felt a warm, bubbling feeling sweep through him. He forgot where he was for a moment, forgot about everything, for a brief gap in time.

And then he was back when the door opened and Sister Kate was there, telling them to come in.

Caterina looked quite irked and tired when they entered, standing side by side in front of her. Her brow was furrowed as she looked at the two of them. "Father Tres, Sister Esther," she said. "I am sending you both to Letetia. There have been numerous reports of methuselah attacks, along with other strange occurances.

"Entire families have seemed to get up in the middle of the night and disappear without a trace, animals have been going insane and attacking their owners. Also, the rain there has not stopped in sixty-five days. Floods have washed away crops and homes. The people are desperate for the Vatican's help. They think, along with the Methuselah, their town has been cursed by witches. Figure out the source of the problem, fix it, and help the townspeople rebuild themselves. I expect daily reports, Father Tres."

"Positive," the Gunslinger replied.

"You all have two hours to pack you supplies and get to the station. You are dismissed." She waved her hand, the two of them bowed, and they left. Tres didn't miss Caterina-sama's heavy sigh as they went. He knew that the Cardinal hated Sister Esther, but he could never understand why. Tres didn't mind her in the slightest. In fact, it was wonderful to be around her. She was kind and understanding and cute-

Wait. Did he just think that?

He looked down at the nun beside him.

Yes. Esther was down right adorable.

**A/N: WOO! Mission together! Please tell me if you see spelling or grammar errors in this and I'll fix them. I'm writing this chapter in WordPad and WordPad is allergic to spellcheck...**

**Special, gigantic thank you to Saya Kotsu and yume girl 91 for favoriting this story! THANK YOU! :D This chappy is dedicated to you guys because I was going through major procrastination and writers block, but you fueled me to write!**

**Review!**

**(O,_,O) Please**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Just so you all know, I am using references and story line from the manga, not the anime. K? Thanks!**

Chapter Fourteen

Esther had to admit, every time she travelled on a train, she was reminded of when she first came to Rome from Istvan. It had been right after they had defeated Gyula and stopped the Star of Sorrow from destroying Rome. She was also reminded the blond French boy, Etoile, who had barged inside their cabin and directly into Father Tres. She laughed to herself, remembering how the young boy wouldn't stop calling Tres "Bro".

As the two of them waited for the train to arrive, she leaned back and let her gaze wander around the crowd. She wondered what sort of mission Father Nightroad was on now. She hadn't seen him in quite a considerable amount of time, and missed his charismatic attitude.

"Father Tres?" she murmured, watching a boy beg his mother for a toy on a cart. "Where has Father Nightroad been sent off to?"

"He has been sent off to Krakow in the Grand Duchy of Jagiello," Tres replied quietly. "He will return long before we do, I am sure." Esther hummed some sort of reply and heard screeching noises in the distance. The train was coming. She stood up, stretched, and grabbed her piece of luggage. Tres came to stand beside her as close to the border line as they could, his case in hand. To be honest, it didn't consist of anything normal. Not in any way. All he had was extra ammunition for his guns. And a book. At least, she thought. Esther had only caught a glimpse…

As the train came screeching by, her hair was blown into her face, and into her mouth. That resulted in her spiting it out and trying to make it look halfway decent under her coif. From Rome, it would take nearly 13 hours to get from Rome to their final stop of Paris, with one stop 5 ½ hours in at Milan.

_Caterina-sama's hometown… _Esther thought as they boarded the train. _I wonder if she misses Milan as much as I do Istvan. _She sighed and found her way to the cabin the two of them would be sharing. It wasn't too far away from the entrance to the car, thank goodness. After the two of them got settled, Esther sat down heavily and looked out the window. Clouds were moving in; Rome would be getting some rain soon. There had been a dry spell for much of the spring.

As the train began to head northwards to Milan, Esther found herself nodding off. Train rides were so boring, and Tres was being so quiet in the seat across from her. Without Abel, there really was no exciting conversation. But Esther didn't mind. She liked this silence just as much as that. In fact, maybe she liked it more.

Her blue eyes looked over to Tres. He _was _reading a book. So he had indeed brought one. The book had a yellow and black cover and no identifying words. "What are you reading, Father Tres?" she asked, and he looked up at her.

"The Fatal Crown," he responded, his amber eyes only briefly returning to the page.

"What is it about?"

A long silence reigned after Esther's question. The clacking of the trains wheels was the only reliever. During that long, quiet moment, Tres seemed to be debating something internally, his finger smoothing over the edge of the page. Then, Tres spoke again.

"It's historical fiction," he explained. "It tells stories of Albion and the Kingdom of Franc long before now. Two thousand years before today."

"Wow!" Esther's blue eyes lit up in excitement and she crossed the car to look at the words he was reading. "I mean, I know you're fascinated by history in general, but I'm honestly interested now."

"I prefer to think of myself as a historian," he said softly. "I do find reading history books are much more interesting than anything else I have picked up." He turned his amber eyes back to the book, hyper aware of Esther's cheek against his shoulder as she read as well.

"Who's Maud?" Esther finally asked, breaking the silence and his line of sight as she pointed at the girl's name.

"The daughter of the King," Tres explained. "Henry, the King of England and Duke of Normandy. England was what Albion used to be referred to as. And Normandy was a territory of the Kingdom of Franc, or France, as it used to be called."

He explained more and more of the books inner workings to her, but only at her request. She seemed to be fascinated by the story, much like he was. She soaked up everything he said like a sponge, only interrupting him occasionally to ask questions. It was interesting for him to watch her reactions to everything he told her. _A historian in bloom, _he thought, somewhat surprised at how mediocre his own thought sounded.

Before the two of them knew it, Milan was upon them. It was two hours until their train left again for Paris, and Esther insisted they go about the city. She wanted to see all Milan had to offer.

First, they wandered around the streets, her greeting people warmly as she passed, him following behind. They passed a beautiful rounded building, which Tres informed her was the L'Ultima Cena, where the painting "The Last Supper" had been kept before Armageddon. The paintings were long gone and it had been turned into sort of a hotel.

Esther thought it was beautiful, but that thought quickly left her mind once she looked ahead of her, her jaw dropping.

It was huge. No, huge was definitely an understatement. There was a large plaza in front of it, where people mingled in the sunlight. It was some sort of church, Esther knew that much. But to describe it with words seemed unfitting. It was too beautiful and massive for her petty vocabulary.

"The Milan Cathedral," Tres said from beside her, making her jump and look away from it for only a moment. "The Duomo. It took almost 600 years to build, and can hold up to 40,000 people. Late Gothic style, elements belonging to Romanesque tradition. The third largest in the world. Breathtaking indeed."

And that was the first time Esther heard Tres talking to himself in such a way.

"Tres-kun," she murmured under her breath. "Could we… go inside? I want to pray in there. For guidance and protection!" She threw a million dollar smile at him. "I've never been inside a church so large! Please, can we?"

"Of course." After all, Tres would never be able to say no to her.

So inside the massive church they went. The hall extended for what seemed like forever. The ceiling was supported with beams thicker than her by at least 100 times. Her heels clacked loudly on the floor as she entered the chapel. Only a few people were there, scattered about and all with their heads bowed, hands clasped around their rosaries.

So, Esther put herself on one of those pews, clasped her own hands around her rosary, and began to pray.

_Good Lord, please watch over Father Nightroad as he perform his duties in your name in Krakow. I trust he will come back safe with your guidance. Also, watch over Tres and I as we preform our duties in your name in Letetia. I know we'll be able to help these people in the name of you, Lord. …but moreover, watch over Tres as he goes through these changes. He has changed so much in the past months, become freer than I have ever seen him. I pray you help him in his times of need when I cannot, or when I am not there. Or for when he is too stubborn to admit he needs it. Tres is a very dear friend of mine, and we have become even closer than before. He is kind, Lord. But he is confused and inexperienced. Please, give me the strength I need to help him become more human._

She opened her eyes, looking up at the Killing Doll beside her. He wasn't looking at her; instead, his eyes were frontward. But she smiled at his profile, loving the way the light made his brown hair pale, more of a butterscotch color now.

_Yes, please watch over him forever. Amen. _

**A/N: So, this was more of a filler chapter. I know, I know… probably a lot more history than you would probably like. But what can I say? I am a history buff, and that reflects in my stories. **

**Next chapter they will arrive in Letetia, and start getting to the bottom of all the trouble there!**

**But… I will be on a little hiatus. See, Thursday, I'm leaving to go on a little vacation/college exploration trip/16****th**** birthday celebration thingy. I'll be gone for 9 days, and when I get back (on top of getting caught up on all the school work I am WAAAAYYYY behind in) I'll work on new chapters. I'll work on them a little out there, too.**

***checks the time* Oh, no! I am very late! I need to write an essay for tomorrow! *passes out***

**Review!**

**(O,_,O) Please**


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: I reread chapter seven (which is one of my favorites in terms of content) and realized Tres and Esther haven't had a good heart-to-heart in a long while. So this is what this chapter'll be.

Enjoy ~

Chapter Fifteen

The more northward the two of them travelled, the colder it seemed to get. When the wind wasn't blowing, it was fine. But a storm seemed to be coming in from the east, and the winds were unforgiving.

Esther pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, realizing she could see her breath a little bit. Tres, walking just in front of her, didn't seem to mind the cold. _He wouldn't have to, because he's an android,_ she reminded herself.

Her fingers felt like they were frozen around the edges of her cloak and her toes were numb in her shoes. She had to keep her jaw clenched to prevent her teeth from chattering.

It wasn't dark yet, so they wouldn't be stopping anytime soon. And they rightfully couldn't. The Kingdom of Franc was a dangerous place to be at night. Well, really anywhere was, but Franc especially so.

"T-Tres?" Esther said aloud, cursing herself for shivering and stuttering his name. He stopped and turned back to look at her, and his amber eyes made her shiver, but for an entirely different reason. "How long 'till we get to Letetia?"

"Another two hours," he answered, and she watched him tilt his head (_like a little doggie…_). "Esther, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Tres," she said, sniffling. Dang. Her nose was running. "I'm just tired and bit chilled by the wind. We can keep going."

So she began walking again, moving past him. The sooner they got to Letetia, the sooner they got a warm bed and cover from the wind. Esther nearly swooned at the image of it.

Then, she felt Tres's hand on her shoulder. Opening her eyes, she looked to see what he wanted, but he didn't meet her eyes. "Here," he murmured, and pulled his cape* around her shoulders. He even clipped in the front for her.

Contrary to what she had thought (that the cape would be cold because he didn't generate body heat), it was actually pleasantly warm. And when they had begun walking again (her still bemused at his act of thoughtfulness), she pulled the hem of it to her nose.

It smelled like Rome. Like the sea breeze coming in from the west and traveling along with the river. It smelled like the rain on the cobblestone walkways on a warm day. But there was something else there. Something that smelled like sandalwood and a slight bit of oil.

Esther's cheeks warmed. _So that's what you smell like_… she thought, her smile gentle.

They continued on for a while longer, Esther calling for him to wait for her and Tres waiting until she was beside him to continue walking again, until the rain began to come down.

"Oh, no… come on…" she grumbled under her breath, pulling Tres's cape over her head. It would get wet, and so would her robe and she'd be cold again.

"Sister Esther." She scowled at the sky before she looked away. He nodded into the woods that surrounded them on all sides but one (forward), which Esther had avoided. It was mostly spruce pines, overlapping branches that made it impossible for light to get through.

That, and rain.

So they settled there, deciding to either wait until morning to continue, or until the rain stopped. Whichever came sooner. Tres made a fire faster than she could ask him to, and she took off her boots to warm her toes.

When Esther heard thunder roll, she knew they'd be there until morning. And so did Tres, but neither of them minded. Esther because she didn't want to walk and be cold anymore, Tres because he didn't want to make Esther go through that at the moment.

So the two of them sat by the fire, Esther telling stories of when she and the other children in Istvan used to go camping. Camping as in sitting just outside the church in a makeshift tent within the courtyard.

Tres listened as Esther told him of a boy names Killan, who boasted he was strong enough to climb to the top of the tallest tree in the courtyard and back down against without falling. The nun laughed as she relayed how Bishop Vitez came out with warm cocoa for them and caught him. The Bishop was very kind and sweet normally, but if a child endangered themselves, she wasn't opposed to giving them a long-lashing.

And he felt at peace again, because she seemed happy. He didn't have a good enough grip on 'happy' to actually tell if that was what he was seeing, but he would have liked to think so. That she was happy, even so far from Rome.

She stopped momentarily, staring into the fire with a deep look in her eyes. He said nothing, merely waited to see if she would continue or not. Either was fine to him. The silence after a conversation was like the aftertaste of wine, though he only had Dr. Wordsmith word for how that tasted. (He could only hope it tasted good.)

"Do you remember, as we were coming back to Rome the first time, when we went into those woods?" Tres looked to where the girl sat beside him, wondering what she was getting at. Did she think they would get attacked here?

"Of course." He couldn't forget. Not unless the memory was deleted or omitted.

"When you went to check the woods, I asked Father Nightroad why you seemed to be in such a bad mood. He told me it was because half of you is always in Rome, where your home was." Her blue eyes looked up into his then, and he was shocked and saddened to see tears in those eyes.

"Do you miss your home, Tres?" Her voice was thick with sadness and longing. The tears in her eyes spilled over, dripping onto his cape, which was bundled around her. Before he could begin to think of an answer, she continued.

"Every day… I think of what could have been different… if I had made a different choice…" she mumbled, sniffling every few moments and keeping her head down. "If I had never trusted Dietrich in the first place. If I hadn't decided to go out and carry those chemicals and have never met Father Nightroad! Maybe it wouldn't be so bad now!"

Tres's eyes widened as she threw herself into his chest, nearly toppling him over. If he could have blushed, he would have at that moment. Comfort. She was looking for him to comfort her. That made him uneasy. What if he did it wrong?

He put his arms hesitantly around her, then more surely after a moment. "Esther…" he sighed, knowing she was at least listening. "I'm not good with words, and I'm not good with emotions just yet, so… this might sound amateur." She didn't acknowledge his words, but he knew she heard.

"I read somewhere that you shouldn't cry because it is over, but you should smile because it happened. You may have lost Bishop Vitez, and I understand that her loss will forever hurt you. She was like a mother to you. And even though Dietrich may have betrayed you, you are still here, breathing. You lived through it. And coming to Rome, you have gained new friends. You have gained Dr. Wordsmith, however strange he may be, and Father Nightroad and Father Leon, though the man lives to annoy us all."

The sarcasm in his voice at that last bit made her look up into his as he spoke. "And as a part of AX, you can assist Caterina-sama in her mission to bring peace between humans and the Methuselah. You're doing more now than you ever were. …every great building was one a picture, and every brave warrior was once a defenseless baby. It's not a matter of where you are today, but where you'll be tomorrow."

Her blue eyes widened for the longest time, and then she pulled herself up only to wrap her arms tightly around his neck. He was stunned still for a moment, then returned the rather sudden embrace, albeit awkwardly. Tres wasn't used to much physical contact, let alone like this.

"Thank you," she murmured, her lips brushing he shell of his right ear. He suppressed a shiver. "Thank you so much, Tres-kun…"

If Tres had a heart, it probably would have skipped a beat.

The rain came down a little harder from where the two of them were safe and hidden away, creating a sort of lullaby for Esther as she fell asleep. She had curled up with his cape over her, and he pulled it more securely over her shoulder after a couple of moments. Her head lay in his lap, and he resisted the urge to run his fingers through her hair.

"Good night, Tres-kun," she murmured, her eyes still closed. As a result, she missed his smile.

"Goodnight, Esther," he said back, watching with interest how the fire light played with the beauty of her features. After a long while, he finally worked up the courage to brush her hair behind her ear.

"I don't miss home," he whispered down at her in response to her earlier question. The Killing Doll smiled again, genially, at the girl in his lap once he was sure she was asleep.

"Because my home is wherever you are…"

***I'm really couldn't find what that coat thingy the priests wear over their cassocks name, so I just figured a cape would be fine. No, not like Superman cape. I looked up traditional Catholic clothing on Wikipedia and it said that capes are worn over cassocks in cold weather. **

**A/N: so, this was what mah brain put out there. Yay! So, writers block took me firmly by the belt on this chapter. I literally wrote about three drafts (each with a different plot to them) before this happened. **

**I know I know. I said this chapter, they would be in Letetia. I lied. I think I'll quit doing that, because my writing ends up turning out completely different than what I had planned. But hey, this was a sweet, fluffy chapter, and who doesn't love those, right? (aardvarks, that's who)**

**Special thanks to emeraldd30 for reviewing on how much you enjoyed chapter seven. I reread it (as I often do and find many many mistakes… ~_~) and it gave me the inspiration to right this! **

**Also, if you see an instance where 'of' or 'or' are switched around with each other, please let me know. I don't know why, but my computer can't tell the difference between the two of them and as I'm writing, I don't notice. **

**Cool. **

**Review!**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: SO SO SO SORRY for this wait! I have had a really hard time with my computer recently, crashing and deleting things... All of my work... gone... **

**So I got this out after much work and trial, so hopefully it isn't too bad. **

Chapter 16

When Esther managed to pry her eyes open, she realized, in some part of her groggy mind, that it was morning. She could see weak sunlight filtering through the trees, dappling on the grass.

She sat up, realizing she wasn't lying in Tres's lap anymore, unlike she had been last night. Her cheeks flushed when she remembered the dream she had had.

In her dream, she and Tres were sitting on a beach somewhere, and she was resting comfortably in his lap.

The sun was setting, and it was a gorgeous view. Tres was smiling down at her, his fingers running a calming course through her hair. It made her want to fall asleep.

"I don't miss home," Tres had murmured to her. "I had once, wishing I could go back to the days where everything was easy, other than training. But I don't want to."

"Why?" she had asked, her voice a mere whisper.

"Because," he responded. And his smile widened. "You are my home now."

As she remembered that, she over what a strange dream that was. Why would she think of something as ridiculous as that? Tres didn't lo… like her that way. And besides, he probably didn't even know what liking someone that way meant.

Nevertheless, the memory of the dream, which was incredibly vivid, left her flustered and confused.

Sighing exaggeratedly, she sat up and stretched. For a moment, she thought over why her knee was itching so terribly bad, and then she saw Tres. He was sitting nearby, putting his gun back together. He had probably been cleaning it, since that was what he typically did when he got bored.

After covering the embers of the fire with a thick layer of dirt to prevent it from catching again, they began north again. They weren't too far from Letetia, and making it there before noon was their goal. Esther couldn't see the sun for the clouds, and only when they thinned could she see its halo burning through.

Though the clouds far above them moved twice the speed of a train, there was no wind blowing across the moor. Esther was grateful, but no matter what she said, Tres refused to take his cloak back. He insisted she needed more than him, and Esther was, deep down, grateful. She offered to give back his cloak only because she was afraid she would seem needy, but his denial made sure she wouldn't be cold (because it really was still quite nippy…)

They walked in silence for much of the journey, only Esther casually asking questions breaking the silence. But the silence was broken by something other than her voice when they reached the top of the hill they had climbed up.

It sounded like a faint roar or a drizzling mist, and when Esther found its source, she was stunned.

She had been skeptical of Caterina's statement "it always rained" in the village. But now, she knew the Cardinal had been right, and that the town could indeed be cursed. The entire town had a wall built from clay and brick and little pieces of rock clustered together to form it. That border seemed to extend up into a thick cloud, dark as night and pouring rain, only hung over the town.

They stood in silence for a long while, Esther once again offered him his cloak (if only to keep dry), Tres denied, and they followed the half-cobblestone-half-dirt road to the towns walls.

The church was in the midst of the city, within the crossing of the two main streets, and a straight beeline from the entrance of the city. Esther pulled her hood and cloaks around her tightly before they stepped into the rain, and she became instantly soaked and cold.

_I hope the Bishop has beds for us ready,_ she thought, shivering. Goosebumps rose on her arms. _I need a warm bed and dry habit…_

As Esther walked down the main street, she looked up and around for any sign of people. At first, it seemed like the town had been completely abandoned, but then she saw shutters being snapped shut and small children occasionally peering out. She would smile their way and raise her fingers in a slight wave, attempting to be friendly, but they disappeared each time.

_It's like they're afraid of us…_

The church was in the center of the city, like Esther and Tres had been told. It was in a state of disrepair, like much of the rest of the buildings they had seen. Missing chunks from the roof and walls, patched clumsily with wooden planks. Windows busted out and boarded up. Weeds had grown up just about everywhere.

But Esther knocked on the heavy oaken door and waited, shivering uncontrollably. Her teeth chattered and her knees clacked together. And when she glanced up at Tres under her eyelashes, she felt instant pity for him. Water dripped off the tapered ends of his hair, the spiked peaks smoothed down by the water.

_I should have forced him to take the stupid cloak…_ Esther grumbled internally.

The sound of a lock being undone caught her attention back. The door creaked open on rusty hinges, and there stood a petite, thin woman. It was the Bishop they had been notified of meeting.

She was short and thin, her brown hair falling in curls all down her back and shoulders. Her brilliant green eyes shown out at them, wide as an owl and blinking like a hummingbird.

"Oh!" she gasped. "You're from the AX! Come in, come in, please!" The Bishop moved aside and ushered them in with a waving hand. "I was expecting you last night. I got so worried."

Tres watched as she closed the door and slid the lock closed again before speaking. "We got held up by the rain," he answered. "We stopped in the forest to rest and wait it out."

"Ah, I see," the Bishop said, smiling gently. "Something you'll have to get used to if you want to survive in this town now. We have to rely on imports of fish from the bay to survive instead of our own crops." She looked so dejected when she said that.

"I understand," Tres nodded. "And that's why we're here. To figure out why and restore this city to its normal self-reliance."

The Bishop smiled, her green eyes softening. (Her green eyes reminded him of something, but what, he couldn't quite reach…) "May God bless you in your coming trials, Priest," she said, bowing slightly. "And we haven't been introduced. I'm Bishop Linda."

"I'm Sister Esther Blanchett and this is Father Tres Iqus," Esther introduced, smiling as she did. Despite having only just met Bishop Linda, she found her aura calming and peaceful. Her smile and her eyes were soft and kind, just as Bishop Vitez's had been…

"It's nice to meet the both of you," she responded, and grabbed her lantern. "I'll take the both of you to your room. Due to Methuselah attacks, the church had been heavily damaged, along with most of the city, so you'll have to share a room until repairs are done."

"That's fine," Esther hurriedly replied. She didn't mind sharing a room with Tres. In fact, that was the opposite of a problem…

Esther loved how peaceful Tres looked when he slept. She would never tell him, but he liked to lay on his side and curl up into a ball like a cat. He looked like a little baby! And moreover, she was glad he was willing to trust her to see that moment of defenselessness.

"Here you are." Bishop Linda's voice broke her thoughts suddenly. She looked up to see a room with two beds, a large window in one wall and two dressers, and a table in the corner. Cozy!

"Towels are in the chests at the end of the beds," Bishop Linda said, lighting the lantern beside the door. "Dry up, get warm, and then we can talk over lunch."

Esther and Tres thanked her, and when she left, Esther took off her soaked cloaks. They would need to be hung outside or dried by a fire or they would mold. After hanging them on the hooks on the wall, she opened the chest in front of her bed and drug out a towel.

Esther glanced over at Tres, who was sitting at the table, taking his guns from the clips of his belt. She thought she heard him grumbling about them rusting, but she couldn't be too sure. Going up behind him, she unfolded the towel and plopped it down on his head.

"You need to dry yourself off, Tres," she said gently, laughing at the surprise in his eyes when he looked up at her. "It wouldn't do to have you rust, too." He sat there silently as she toweled his hair dry, and as she laughed at how mussed up it was.

So she ran her fingers through it, combing it out softly. There was no sound other than the rain pounding on the roof and splashing in the puddles on the streets. Neither of them said anything, merely enjoyed the comfortable silence that existed between them. Even when she didn't need to anymore, she still combed through his hair, but she didn't really know why.

Maybe it was because she loved how soft it was. It was like down on the inside of a pillow. If she could, she would like to do this forever. Or maybe it was because she merely wanted an excuse to touch him. These little moments of contact with him were something Esther treasured.

That thought made her blush, even more so when she remembered her dream…

"Esther?" She jumped a little bit when he spoke her name. "Do you really think we'll be able to help this town?"

He spoke very softly, and she could hear within his tone that he was doubting himself. Doubting his ability to do anything adequately anymore. And no matter how many times she told him that was wrong, that probably wouldn't change. That made Esther sad.

So she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him from behind the best she could. It was the first time in a long time she had hugged him at all. And with her mouth near his ear, she whispered to him.

"Tres, I know, with you, everything will be okay…"

**A/N: so yeah... **

**Special shout out to emeraldd30 and Lady kemi for reviewing! **

**And I have a warning for all of you...**

**Things are gonna get fluffy.**

**Review!**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: MY COMPUTER WORKS NOW **

**I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO HAPPY LIKE OH MY GOSH YES I CAN'T EVEN**

**So this chapter is celebratory. Congratulations to me, right?**

Chapter Seventeen

It took a while for Esther to get her hair dried, even after she got her dry habit on, and even longer to get warm. Tres refused to change his clothes, saying they'd be dry soon enough. _Stupid, stubborn android, _she thought, playfully. _I wish he could get sick just so he'd learn his lesson. _And then she immediately berated herself for that thought.

Bishop Linda was down in the main dining area in the back of the church when they found her. She had lit more candles and cleaned up the wax from underneath them, and had used the last of the firewood she had in the box to build a fire in the kitchen.

"Soon, the men will have to go out and get more wood," she said, brushing wood pieces from her habit. "I swear, if this rain doesn't let up, this town will be run straight into the muddy ground."

"That's why we're here, Bishop Linda," Esther said, sitting at the table. "Now, tell us how this all started." The Bishop sat the candlestick on the table and sat across from Esther (while Tres preferred to stand), and sighed.

"I've only been in this city for six years," she said. "I came here from Albion after my mother died, leaving my sister and her husband behind. She was the only family I had left, but I couldn't stand being there anymore. With all the memories and whatnot. Especially of my brother. A good man who died, much too young.

"But anyway," she waved her hand quickly. "I first got to this city when everything was calm and peaceful. Everyone knew everyone, everyone helped everyone. Very close-knit community. They welcomed me with open arms and happy smiles. But a year ago, we found one of our own, a little teenage girl, dead in the street with all the blood gone from her. A Methuselah had attacked, and there was no evidence as to why or how no one had noticed before morning. And people were so paranoid about Methuselah attacking them in the night that people started blaming their neighbors for the attacks. Saying they welcomed the Methuselah into their town because of some grudge they held. It started foolishly. One man blamed his wife because she didn't want to cook his dinner one night. A brother blamed his elder sister because she snuck out at night, even though she was actually seeing a boy without her parents' permission.

"So everyone blamed everyone else, and a once close knit community turned against itself. No one comes to church anymore except for a few of the elders, and even then, they don't come together. It's sad to see, really. And in the last year, more Methuselah attacks began happening, so people would just stay inside whenever possible. They didn't want to die. And I can't blame them. But after the last attack, it began raining and just didn't stop. And now there's no food, no firewood, Methuselah attacks and non-stop rain."

She stopped talking then, her eyes sad. "It's horrible to see that. And there's nothing I can do to help. In the beginning, I tried to hold everyone together by having get-togethers in the church, and it worked for a while, but when the attacks became more frequent, they didn't work at all."

Esther smiled comfortingly at the Bishop. "You don't have to worry about that anymore," she said. "Tres and I will figure out the cause of all this, bring down the Methuselah and make this town as close as it once was."

The Bishop's wide green eyes kept her blue ones for the longest time, and then she smiled, bowing her head. "Thank you, Sister Esther," she whispered. "And you too, Father Tres, for coming all this way to help us."

And with that, they (Esther and Bishop Linda) ate their lunch and Tres went off to inspect the perimeter of the town. His first suspicion was that the outer wall had been layered with this supposed curse. It had to be some sort of dark magic, otherwise the rain would extend beyond the city limits.

He came out the way they had come in, circling around most of the wall looking for runes or markings that could signify a curse. Even though he was incredibly thorough, he saw nothing out of the ordinary, just piles of bricks layered with cement. While he went, he realized the suspicion of the towns people the Methuselah was among them now. The nearest town was almost eight kilometers (five miles) away, and nothing but rolling hills stretched between the two cities.

_Nowhere for them to hide, and no reason would a Methuselah come from a town far off to feast here. And this has been reoccurring, so it might be the same one, _Tres thought. _I'll have to see if I can examine the corpses to see any similarities in the attacks. No… I'm pretty sure they bury their dead. It would be disrespectful to dig up their graves._

He noticed that the sun was beginning to set, and decided it would be best to go back into the city. It would be easier to watch the streets at night, when most people would be sleeping. Well, except for the culprit. Hopefully he could catch him before anyone else got hurt.

Esther was seemingly waiting for him to come back. She was waiting inside the chapel when he opened the doors, pulling the locks in behind him. Being in the center of the town, hopefully the top of the church had a good vantage point.

"Did you find anything?" she asked him softly, crossing her arms over her habit.

"I didn't," Tres answered. "Nothing out of the ordinary. The wall doesn't have any runes or visible spell marks to suggest a curse. But I do think the citizens are right, that the Methuselah is in the town. The nearest city is eight kilometers north, and it's just a fishing port. Not heavily populated. And there are no forests or buildings in that stretch of land for them to hide in. It doesn't seem feasible that a Methuselah would trek that far for a midnight snack."

"So the Methuselah really is in the town, is that right?" Esther repeated softly, and Tres merely nodded silently. The Methuselah was in the city, and limited contact with the citizens meant it would be difficult finding out who it was exactly.

"Bishop Linda has already gone to bed," Esther said, breaking the retrospective silence they'd shared. "I suggest we go, too. Real work starts tomorrow."

After locking up the doors and the windows, the two of them left the main chapel in favor of their room. Esther changed into her nightgown behind the divider (**A/N: there's a divider now. And a bathroom. Just FYI.)**, crawling into her cold bed and hoping it would warm up quickly. She listened to Tres remove his guns and turn their safeties on (except for one of them, which he kept close at hand in case of an emergency), and take most of his clothes off.

_Most of his clothes off… listen at you, Esther, thinking like a preteen school girl in some male brothel fantasy dream. _Her face lit up like a light bulb. _No, don't think those things either, stupid, stupid! _She covered her head with her blankets and waited until she heard Tres get into bed before she spoke. Poking her head out from under her hot blankets to the cool air of the room, she said, "Goodnight, Tres."

"Goodnight, Esther," he said back to her softly.

Even though the beds were the most comfortable thing she'd slept on in days, it didn't prevent her from staying awake with thoughts running rampant in her head. Like Bishop Linda and Bishop Vitez, and the Methuselah and the teenage girl. Like the rain and the cold air hopefully going to warm up soon.

And, as her mind began getting fuzzy with sleep…

Of Tres and the way he smiled. Like it was a special secret reserved just for her. And his books. The Fatal Crown and the Great Gatsby and the Count of Monte Cristo and a Tale of Two Cities. And imagining him as a knight in shining armor, saving her from Methuselah attack and kissi-

No, wait. Where in the world did that come from? No, Tres? Kissing her? That just seemed so… foreign. And after her dream the night previous, she was blushing so red she was putting a tomato to shame. She was pretty sure Tres was awake, but she didn't want to say anything. Besides, what would she say? Nothing seemed appropriate, because everything she wanted to say was foolish and just plain odd.

But that still didn't stop her from trying. "Tres?" she whispered softly, and then a little louder. He hummed his response. Right, so he was awake. "Uh… I, well… never mind."

She heard him move in his bed. "What is it, Esther?" he asked, and she blushed a little more at the way he said her name.

"I can't sleep," she said, burying her face into her pillow. After sighing heavily, she continued. "I want to, but I just can't, you know? ...will you, well, tell me a story?"

"What kind of story?" Of course he wouldn't refuse. Tres is too nice to refuse.

"I don't know," she whispered. "You've read a hundred books. Just tell me a story… and make sure it has a happy ending. I like happy endings…" _Gosh, you sound like a child._

She swore she heard Tres's smile in his voice as he spoke. "Well…" he sighed, and she settled back down. "Once, a long time ago…"

Esther listened to Tres's smooth, calming voice until she fell asleep. She dreamed again of her and Tres on the beach, but this time, she smiled up at him.

"_I love you, Tres-kun."_

**A/N: and so the plot thickens… very gradually… but it thickens.**

**So, my computer works now, and in the next few days I'll be working on all the chapters I lost (hopefully…). Finals are coming up and that means more work and angry teachers. Ah, the joys of being in high school… NOT.**

**Another shout out to emeraldd30 for the review! Thanks! My heart does a little dance when I see a review has been posted for my story. It's actually causing problems. Got weird heart palpitations going on here…**

**Kidding! **

**Also, if you know who Bishop Linda is, PM me. You will receive digital cookies. And pie. Gotta love pie, Dean.**

**Also, anyone wanna beta for me? It would be much appreciated. ;)**

**Review!**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Gettin' down to business on these chapters, huh?**

**Warning: being a person obsessed with history and science, there will be a lot of muscle references. Ya know, autopsy stuff.**

Chapter Eighteen

It was mutually decided that Esther would be the one going door to door trying to get information from the citizens on their experiences since the Methuselah attacks had begun. After all, she was better with words and comforting people who needed it. Tres knew this from experience.

Tres, in the meantime, would be examining bodies of the recent victims that were stored in the morgue. Upon asking Bishop Linda, he had found that, ever since Priest Stephen L'evile had died of pneumonia, there had been no able bodied men willing to bury anyone. Meaning there were three victims he could examine. Plenty enough to create a link in attacks. And Esther had refused to do this because the idea of being anywhere near dead people, let alone doing an autopsy, would make her lose her breakfast.

Esther decided she would begin at the diner that was down the street. It was always open, but whether anyone actually went there or not was beyond her knowledge. After getting on a clean habit and pulling the hood of her cloak over her head, she stepped outside into the rain. Though it hadn't stopped, she noticed it had lessened in intensity.

The diner didn't have many people inside it, like she had predicted. And the few that were there were spaced far apart. An old man here, a young man there, a middle-aged woman on the other side of the bar. She seemed to be the barkeep, and thus could be an information source.

Putting her hood down, she made her way to the bar and stood, waiting for the black-haired woman to notice her. When she did, her cold steel eyes looked Esther up and down, narrowed, and then she placed the glass down on the bar with a loud bang.

"Nun, huh?" she said, scoffing. "Gonna catch that vamp that that idiot mayor let in?"

Esther smiled, somewhat self-conscious all of a sudden. "That's our plan," she answered honestly. "My partner, Father Tres Iqus, and I are here to try and free the town of the curse it's under. I'm Sister Esther Blanchett, from Rome."

Now she had this woman's attention. "I'm Jezebel," the woman said. "Most people call me Jezzie. I'm guessin' you want to know about the Methuselah, huh?"

Esther nodded. "I'm going to go around and see whether or not I can pinpoint where the Methuselah is. The way I've heard, it seems everyone blames someone for welcoming the Methuselah into the town. I want to see your side of the story."

As Esther spoke, Jezebel poured herself a shot of whiskey and downed it quickly. "Well, I say it's all the mayor's fault," she said, leaning up against the bar. "It all started with tales of him cheatin' on his wife and cheatin' people out of their money. He didn't like the idea of being elected out, so tried to control the town through fear. Had bodyguards whose backgrounds were as shady as a cave. After the first murder, he up and left town in the middle of the night. Left his wife and kid here, and she died of disease soon enough, while his son got killed by the Methuselah. Word was he started making deals with vamps to ensure his safety from us, the citizens he was supposed to govern." She scoffed. "I say it's his fault the vamps showed here in the first place, stupid coward."

Esther thanked her, and made a mental note to ask Bishop Linda if she knew anything about the company the mayor kept.

Meanwhile, Tres was in the morgue, the three bodies laid out in front of him. Two women and a male. He noted all the visual similarities he could see. _They all have different hair color, and they aren't of the same gender or age group, so it doesn't seem this Methuselah has a particular preference, _he noted. _The fang marks are all on the right side, pretty low on the neck. Either the Methuselah prefers that area or they're shorter than their victims._

The only real similarity he saw was that they were all relatively close in height, with a difference of only two or three inches. _Either they're in the range of five-foot-four to five-foot-seven, or it is a preference. _

He sighed. Now then… He'd have to cut their necks open and see whether the Methuselah was focusing on the internal jugular of each victim. He pulled off his gloves and rolled up his sleeves, grabbing a scalpel and splitting open the platysma muscle and the sternal head of the sternocleidomastoid muscle. And there lay the jugular, indeed damaged on the first victim. But on the second and the third, this pattern didn't follow. The second had been hit in the transverse cervical, and the third had only died through general blood loss.

So the last one was bitten, but the Methuselah didn't drink his blood. Had it killed the man purely because he had been a witness to the murder of one of the girls? Or had he discovered who the Methuselah was, and where he was hiding?

There were really several possibilities, and at the moment, there wasn't any way for him to figure out exactly what he was looking for. Then again, he did have a definite height range. The town census should have that on file. So that was where he went next. Town Hall.

After dragging out all the records of the most recent census, which was only from a few months ago, he discovered there were only 153 people in this city. There used to be almost a thousand, but since the rain started it seemed they decided to evacuate. _All the easier for us, then. Sadly. _

After Esther finished going around the city, rudely getting doors slammed in her face and people telling her to get lost, she returned to the church. She didn't know when it had happened really, but it had gotten much colder in the last hour. And having her clothes wet didn't help her situation. She was really going to have to get an umbrella. She was stupid not to have brought one from Rome. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

So she went directly into the dining room, fully intending to sit by the fire and warm up. Esther was surprised to see Tres there with piles of papers on the table, looking at them with his eyebrows knitted. He didn't look up when she came in, and she supposed he didn't hear her.

"Tres," she said, and he looked up sharply. She didn't miss his hand immediately gravitate towards his gun, but stop when he realized who was there.

"Esther," he acknowledged, and he stood up after a moment and extended his hand out to her. "Come here, you're freezing."

"How'd you know that?" she said, sniffling and grabbing his hand. He pulled the chair he had been sitting in closer to the fire and made her sit down in it.

"Probably because your lips are blue and you're shaking like a leaf," he told her. And really, she was. She had to clench her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering and her arms had goose bumps. Occasionally, a shiver would run down her spine. She stared into the fire, rubbing her arms hoping to get warm quickly.

Esther jumped slightly when she felt something slightly heavy and warm settle down on her shoulders. It was a quilt, and Tres was the one who put it there. "That should warm you up," he said softly, and smiled down at her. Esther got a shiver down her spine again, but for an entirely different reason. She smiled back up at him, happy for this calm moment between them. She would call this the calm before the storm, except she had no idea what exactly was going to come next.

When he sat beside her, she leaned against his shoulder, staring into the fire and feeling completely at peace. She didn't tell him anything she had discovered that day, and he didn't either, at least, not right then. Neither of them wanted to disturb the moment.

"Tres-kun," she whispered softly, and he hummed in reply. "Thank you." And she quickly stretched up to kiss him on the cheek. Her face immediately burned red and she buried her face into his arm.

_Oh my good Lord, I cannot believe I had the courage to do that… _she thought to herself. _Oh geez… oh geez…_

"Esther?" Tres asked quietly, and Esther flushed some more. "Why did you do that?" His words were totally derived of any emotion; she couldn't tell what he was thinking. And she didn't know what she was thinking, either. The words that came out of her mouth next didn't even seem like hers. Like words from a dream…

"Because…" she murmured. "I love you, Tres-kun."

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews/favorites/follows everyone! It is much appreciated. **

**I don't know whether or not you all agree with the rate Tres and Esther's relationship is progressing, but that is what this story is primarily about. Lovie-dubbie stuff. All the fluff. Good gravy, that rhymed. **

**Review!**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: I'm a sap. Such a pathetic sap wallowing in fluff. It feels like a hundred tiny kitten paws all over my face…**

**So, armed with a Toshiba, a Coke Zero and a hot bowl of ramen that is sitting beside me cooling down (I burned my tongue, way to go me), thus I write the sappiest thing I have ever written. …oh my gosh, this is going to be sooooo OOC… forgive me.**

Chapter Nineteen

If Tres had a heart, it probably would have stopped.

More than once he had pondered over the idea of 'love' – no, more of the feeling, the state of being in love – and had come to the conclusion that it was a rare thing. Not everyone got to experience the feeling of love in their lifetimes, no matter how long they might live. And he had thought even more so, on how he felt towards Esther. Sure, her company was something he missed when they were apart and relished when they were together, but was that love?

Was love missing someone even when they were in the next room? Was love constantly fretting over that person's safety, even waking in the middle of the night, just to make sure they were still there? Was love wanting nothing more than to be with that person, and be willing to do whatever it took to make them happy, even at the sacrifice of one's own well-being?

If it was, than Tres could say he was definitely deeply in love with Esther.

Even so, hearing the words that came out of her mouth, and feeling her lips pressed against his skin with the gentleness of an angel, was surreal, and he wondered whether or not he had fallen asleep. Everything fell into a silence that Tres came to recognize as an awkward one after she had spoken, and he realized he was supposed to say something.

But he had never been good with words, and had no clue where to even begin. He had heard the phrase actions speak louder than words, but he still was at a halt of what to do.

And another thing Tres found he didn't like. He did _not_ like conflict.

So he did probably the dumbest thing in the world. He stood up and left the kitchen silent as a mouse, without taking his guns or a word of goodbye.

And Esther was left in silence, her stomach aching, tears in her eyes and heart crushed.

_I'm such an idiot, _she thought, burying her face into her hands.

_I'm such an idiot, _he thought, leaving the church in favor of the cold rain.

The next morning, it rained harder than the day before during the early hours, and Esther hadn't seen Tres come back at all last night. Bishop Linda said she was woken when she heard the door slam shut by the wind and had waited in the chapel for Tres to come back, but he had not reappeared.

Esther wasn't angry with him for running out like he had. She knew he was bad with words, and didn't know how to tell her 'I don't love you' in a way that was harsh. No, Esther was angry with herself, for thinking it would be a good idea to say something as stupid as she had. She hadn't eaten breakfast because her worried stomach wouldn't take it, but she had gone into the kitchen this morning to sit by the dying fire.

His guns were still on the table, exactly where he had left them last night. That was what made her worry in the beginning. _What if he got attacked by the Methuselah and couldn't defend himself? _Esther would theorize. _What if he's dead, or dying somewhere, all alone?_

No matter how much she worried, Bishop Linda merely told her not to go looking for him.

"When it rains like this, no one gets attacked," she told her. "I suppose the Methuselah hates the rain just as much as we do." The Bishop sighed, stroking Esther's hair. "It will be okay, young one. He's only human, and humans do need time to think through things before they say or do anything they regret."

Esther laughed breathlessly. "Well, he's not exactly human, but I suppose the same rules apply." The Bishop gave her a confused look, and Esther's smile disappeared. "What is it?"

"Not exactly a human, you said…" Bishop Linda murmured. "What do you mean by that?"

"Oh, Caterina-sama didn't tell you?" Bishop Linda shook her head, her eyebrows knitting together. "Tres is a battle android. He was made by Professor Gepetto Garibaldi, I think his name was. He used to work with the Vatican, but he used the Killing Dolls to rebel against them. My friend, Father Nightroad, was the one who put the rebellion down. And after that, Tres was the only one left. So Caterina-sama saved him and he went to work with the AX."

Esther gasped aloud when Bishop Linda grabbed her shoulders and pulled her around, looking intensely into her blue eyes. "He's the third, isn't he?" the woman asked breathlessly. "The third Killing Doll?" Esther gaped like a fish out of water, but settled after a moment for nodding mutely. Bishop Linda immediately let go of her, looking as if she had been struck in the face. She whirled around and left the chapel so fast Esther barely had time to blink.

_What in God's holy name was that about? _

It was nearing lunch time when Tres did finally show up. The sun was barely peeking through the clouds and the rain had lessened to a mere sprinkle when Esther heard the door open. And as soon as her blue eyes met his amber ones, her face flushed and she got up to turn away. She wouldn't be able to speak. Everything was just too weird right now.

But she wasn't going to get away that easily. Of course she wasn't.

She felt his hand wrap around her wrist. "Esther," he said, she flushed heavily when she turned around, facing him, but still unable to meet his eyes. "I need to talk to you." _Oh, sweet Lord… he's going to say it now, isn't he?_

"Tres, I'm sorry I said what I did," she said hurriedly, thinking he was angry at her. "I didn't mean to say it, it just kind of… came out. Just forget about it. It was stupid for me to do that." A long silence ensued and a buzzing filled her ears.

"Esther…" he sighed. "That isn't what I want to talk to you about…" His voice was gentle and sweet, and it made her look up and meet his eyes. Her heart leapt to her throat at the emotion she saw in his eyes. Now, even more so than ever before, Tres looked like a vulnerable, kicked puppy. He was worried and nervous and, dare she think it, scared.

The girl waited for him to say more, but he didn't, not for a long time. The only noise was the gentle tapping of rain on the few windows left. Esther was scared of what he _did _want to talk about, but wasn't willingly going to show it.

She almost jumped when he suddenly took her hands in his, and her blue eyes looked to where they met. Her face felt like it was on fire, her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest and her legs felt like jelly.

"I…" he began, but stopped, glancing away. "Well, you know I've never been good with words." And with that, Tres leaned in and kissed her.

Esther had never kissed anyone before (unless you count that one time she saved a little boy from drowning by giving him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, which she certainly didn't…) and had never been kissed in all her life. But as a young girl, she supposed there were only so many ways to describe a kiss.

But she had never been so wrong before in her life.

Her mind should have pulled a blank, but surprisingly, it didn't. Instead, after she closed her eyes, her brain cataloged every minute detail in an instant, and it was details she would never forget.

The way his lips (which were _way_ too soft to be possible) were pressed softly, hesitantly against her own until she eventually reciprocated. The way his hands eventually left hers in favor of placing one on her cheek and the other on her hips, and how her own wrapped around his neck and pulled him down closer to her.

And for Esther, it was over far too soon. She gasped in a quick breath when he pulled away. Opening her eyes, she looked into his eyes, which were warm amber. She didn't say anything, and neither did he, for a long while.

"I love you," he whispered then, and warmth filled her from head to toe. "I don't know how to say how I feel in any way other than that…"

Esther merely silenced him with another kiss, and then smiled. "That's all you need to say, Tres-kun," she replied softly. She nuzzled her face into his chest, holding on to him tight. "And I love you, too, Tres-kun."

**A/N: Yay, fluff happened! **

**This was a major fluff chapter with a little bit of stuff thrown in there for plot development. Next chapter… not a lot of fluff and a lot of plot development. Sorry…**

**Thanks to emeraldd30 for reviewing and thanks to BLueANgels12 for favoriting and following this story. Thanks guys! I appreciate the support.**

**Review!**


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